Hero's IV Brothers In All But Blood
by Mommints
Summary: When the commanders of the Twelve Tribes start disappearing, Ardeth calls upon O'Connell for help in an adventure that could cost them their lives uber-angst warning !UPDATED! Rahimah wonders, Rick comes home but what? Jon's in trouble? Pls review ;)
1. The forces are gathering

Hero's IV-Brothers In All But Blood  
  
Sequel to "Have A Cigar, Ardeth"  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Rick and Evy O'Connell and Ardeth Bay belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. All other characters belong to the author.  
  
Ask anyone who knows me via email, I've been talking about this story for quite some time, and it's captured my imagination. I've enjoyed a new level of writing for this as well as learning more about the Islamic and Egyptian cultures, of which in my own interpretation, I've combined the two. Hopefully I haven't offended anyone with my viewpoint and of course, these are my thoughts and theories on the events that led up to TMR. Special thanks to Eirian for all her help; it's meant a lot. And for use of the Medjai Warrior Oath, Shukran maHbub qalbi. Special thanks to Xanthia for allowing use of her phrase from "Brother." (by the way, forgive any translation errors; I'm new at using my English-Arabic dictionary.) And a general thanks to all of you who've listened to me ramble on about this, you're comments have been very helpful.Not sure what else to add except enjoy..and of course, feed back is always appreciated. Send it to Mommint@msn.com.  
  
Prologue - 4 weeks prior  
  
~*~ Chapter 1 ~*~  
  
It was the kind of night he liked, perfect for a murder.  
  
The moon hung low like a silver orb against the black velvet of the night sky, and silvery threads of clouds moved with graceful ease blown by a gentle wind. And they occasionally obscured its iridescent glow from the world below, giving time for shadows to move within the night  
  
On the small ridge of a sand dune, overlooking the outskirts of Cairo, Jahm Musad straightened in his saddle for a moment, allowing himself only a brief grimace of pain from his cramped knee before schooling his face back into an emotionless mask. The mask he had been wearing since seizing control of the men that were once led by the brothers Sariyah, almost five weeks ago in a vicious battle with other would-be leaders. He fingered the new scar that slashed almost diagonally across his face from the tip of his left eyebrow, down the bridge of his nose to end near the corner of his mouth. Its surface was still red and angry, but its detraction from his appearance didn't bother the young leader, instead it gave him a sense of satisfaction for the man who had given him this scar didn't live to boast of his tale.  
  
Such was life, Jahm mused sardonically. Kill or be killed. There was always someone waiting to take the leadership from him and he had to fend off all challengers for now Jahm had built up a formidable army since Adham's death. An army that he would eventually led against his most hated foe, the Medjai. Unlike his predecessors, Jahm was a patient man, gathering the men that had fled the night Adham had been killed, and training them unceasingly, until he was satisfied they were ready for the next step in his grand scheme. And when he deemed they were ready, he was going to lead them into battle, for now it wasn't the matter of the fabled gold buried at Hamunaptra any more, it also became a matter of vengeance. Retribution.  
  
And if there was one thing Jahm excelled at so far in his life, it was killing. Once the Medjai had been dealt with, then he would be free to seize the city of the dead and reap his just rewards.  
  
Over the past few days, he had divided his army, taking two promising men Kasim and Qutaybah and making them his second's in command. They then divided the men again, and picked out twelve messengers, each assigned to one of the twelve tribes of the Medjai and who were solely responsible for intercepting any communication from the warriors to the various villages. Jahm learned who were the commanders, who sent out the most patrols and who would be the easiest to fight first, thinking the remote tribes on the outer regions away from Thebes and Hamunaptra were most vulnerable.  
  
So it was more than a surprise when one of his messengers arrived in the renegade's camp this morning, bearing not a note regarding the Medjai, but of a man who wished to meet the leader of these men, midnight at a disclosed destination in Cairo. The message had been vague but hinted at the possibility of them working together, for they both had a mutual goal in terms of seizing Hamunaptra. Intrigued but cautious, Jahm sent the note back agreeing to this meeting and now found himself waiting for the appointed hour to arrive so he could meet his mystery benefactor.  
  
"This could be a trap," Qutaybah warned and moved his mount closer to Jahm's. "Set by the Medjai."  
  
Jahm shook his head. "No, I think not. The Medjai are more worried about one of their commanders, Ardeth Bay who has still yet to recover from Adham's challenge."  
  
"So, you'll still meet this man?" Questioned Qutaybah again, his cunning mind already formulating possible scenarios if the meeting did indeed turn out to be a trap.  
  
"No, not just me.both of us." Jahm's mouth twitched into a sarcastic smile, for he was already guessing the other man's intentions of taking his place as leader. "Kasim, you stay here with your men and if trouble arises, you have your orders."  
  
Kasim obediently nodded his head. "Yes my chief."  
  
Qutaybah knew better than to argue and for the moment, silently followed Jahm's orders. He kicked his mount into a quick trot and followed his leader down the ridge and out onto the open plains, that led towards Cairo. Behind him, a few men dispersed like ghosts into the night, blending in with the shadows, silent and wraith-like as they all converged on a dilapidated building chosen for the site of the meeting. Overhead, the moon's light was suddenly shrouded from mist and Jahm sighed with satisfaction, indeed this was a good night for murder.  
  
~*~  
  
"You trust this man, this Musad?" The mercenary asked his accomplice.  
  
"No but I have use for him and his army of men. Given the proper training and weapons, they would make a valuable asset to be used as we continue our quest." The older man answered. "And as you know, I am not one for bypassing such an opportunity to bring this man in as an alley, rather than an enemy."  
  
The mercenary snorted with disdain, for he knew of Musad's bloody climb to power. "I for one will not trust him."  
  
The other man laughed. "That is good, since I trust you to deal with him as you see fit, if he fails to choose wisely. Now go."  
  
And a second later, the mercenary disappeared into the dark corners of the room, his eyes glittering like the cold stare of a king cobra coiled and prepared to strike.  
  
Jahm sauntered into the small room, his alert gaze sweeping over the interior for any threats and when he felt it safe, he motioned for Qutaybah to stay behind, a decision he knew irritated the other man's restraint.  
  
"Stay here and wait for my call, if I should need you." He murmured.  
  
He arrogantly walked up to the lone man, who sat at the room's only furniture, a small wooden table with two chairs, and a lantern in the center given off a feeble illumination that showed the room to be empty otherwise. And stopped when he approached the chair opposite of him.  
  
"Please, sit down. I would offer you some refreshment but as I'm sure you can agree, this is not a social call." The man stated pleasantly and waved at the chair.  
  
Jahm straddled the chair, lifting one leg over the seat and letting his robes fall away to deliberately reveal his weapons, tucked in the waist of his pants as he sat down. It was a show of power meant to intimidate but he was surprised when the other man merely smiled.  
  
"You have every reason not to trust me, but" He raised his hand before Jahm could respond. "I need for you to listen to what I have to offer."  
  
"Go on." Jahm urged in a bored voice. "I'll admit, you have my curiosity."  
  
"Good." The man shifted in his seat and began reciting the facts he had learned about the leader opposite of him, leaving out no detail and the events that led up to this moment, impressing Jahm with his knowledge and skills at obtaining it. He grudgingly admitted, this stranger knew more about him than most and he couldn't decide if that were a good sign, or the indication this man needed to be killed. Too much knowledge of one's past had taught Jahm well in his youth and he didn't like being at a disadvantage.  
  
"You know so much of me, yet I know nothing of you. Why recite to me what I already know?" He asked suspiciously.  
  
"I admire your tenacity, your perseverance in your struggle for power. We are almost alike, you and I since we both thirst for more than the average life has to offer. Except my goals exceed the unlimited wealth of Hamunaptra." The man leaned closer, his dark eyes shining with greed. "I desire what the Medjai have protected for over three thousand years."  
  
"You want the priest?" Jahm asked, knowing full well of the legend.  
  
"I want the power that the priest offers.control of the world. I find I need someone, such as yourself to keep the Medjai occupied as I continue my.research on resurrecting Imhotep. Like a jackal nipping at their heels, you could harass the Medjai, draw them out and away from the City of the Dead, while my men and I search for certain artifacts. It would be mutually satisfying to us both, you would have access to the gold and I would have..well, I would have my own rewards."  
  
Jahm leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest as he thought over the other man's offer.  
  
"Think of it, the wealth you seek to obtain just hanging in the open, like ripe fruit for the taking." The man leaned closer again, seeking to drive home his point. "And revenge on the Medjai, who you've hated since your youth. Tell me, have you reconciled yourself over the death of your mother, when they raided your camp? Have you forgiven them when they killed your father in a battle a year later?"  
  
"Enough!" Jahm growled, his voice holding a note of warning.  
  
The man leaned back, hands up in surrender. "Agreed, what is done in the past is of no consequence to us now. Accept my offer, become the leader of my men as well and together, we will defeat our enemy and claim our rightful prizes." He suddenly reached down and pulled a small burlap bag from under the table, a movement that made the leader pull out his weapons in retaliation and take aim at his possible partner's chest. From behind him came the unmistakable sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath and a moment later, Jahm felt the cold kiss of steel lodged firmly against his throat.  
  
"No!" The man ordered to the accomplice behind Jahm and threw down on the table the bag, the impact causing its weakened seams to burst open and reveal a small fortune in gold coins. He waved off his mercenary and slowly, the blade was lifted just as slowly, Jahm withdrew his weapons.  
  
"Take this is a token of my good will and partial payment of your services. Think about my offer, I give you twenty-four hours to respond." He rose up and walked away from the table and materializing from the shadows came the tall figure of a Nubian, dressed in a flowing cape and looking at Jahm with a sneer of disdain.  
  
"And if I chose not to accept?" Jahm returned to glare and called out after them, picking up one coin and holding it closer for examination.  
  
The two men stopped before they reached the doorway.  
  
"Then I will find someone who will, it matters not to me. The end result is what I'm paying for.complete access to the City of the Dead. Twenty- four hours." The man called over his shoulder as he left with his accomplice, while Jahm still sat at the table.  
  
He was furious, his anger barely kept in check, indicated only by the muscle flexing in his cheek. He stared at the coin as if trying to decipher any secrets it may hold in relation to its previous owner, and he heard the cautious approach of Qutaybah behind him. Ah, the source of his anger.  
  
"Jahm?" The other man called out.  
  
"Come closer, there's something I want you to see." The leader answered, and waved his man forward. He slowly pulled the dagger hidden from his robe and when his second in command was a hand's width away from him, he jumped up from the chair, grabbed Qutaybah by the throat and slammed him down in the table, making some of the coins bounce up and drop to the floor. The point of his dagger was pressed hard into the other man's face, hard enough for a droplet of blood to appear beneath the sharp edge of the blade.  
  
"Do you have trouble listening? Did you not hear the sword drawn on me?" Jahm hissed, his face close to Qutaybah's, his lips curled back in a snarl of rage. "Or do you covet my position so much that you would grab any chance to usurp it and have it as your own?"  
  
"No..no, I ah, didn't hear you call out for me." The second in command tried to make amends, his hands straining to hold back the blade pressed against his face. "I swear by all that's holy."  
  
"Heed my warning well, dog. Disobey my orders again, and I'll cut that pretty face of yours into ribbons, and dump your carcass into the Nile. Do you hear me now?"  
  
"Yes! Yes.." Qutaybah all but whimpered.  
  
Jahm released him and stepped back, ordering him to gather the gold. "We need to hold a council, as soon as we return to camp. Call everyone together and assemble the messengers."  
  
"Yes my chief," he swallowed convulsively. "But why? Are we moving ahead with our plans?"  
  
Jahm and Qutaybah walked outside into the cool night air and the leader purposely kept from answering, his mind still mulling over the benefits of hiring themselves out. For now, he vowed to do some research of his own before giving his answer and he ordered Qutaybah to mount.  
  
"We ride back to camp."  
  
And just as silently as they came, the men rode out from the town, and this time Jahm didn't care that the full extent of the moon's brightness revealed to them their surroundings in stark clarity, almost like night turning into day. And he took that as a good omen, a sign for the things to come. 


	2. The oath of a Medjai

Chap 2  
  
1 Medjai Warrior Oath  
  
As sworn Medjai, a Warrior for God I make these sacred oaths before Allah and before my people.  
  
That as my forefathers have done since the time before the Pharaohs, I give my life to the protection of the Voice of the Law - and shall strive to uphold that law in the desert.  
  
That as my ancestors have done since the time of Seti the first, I shall guard Hamunaptra - the City of the Dead - against trespass that may seek to remove the wealth of Egypt from its rightful place and might unwittingly disturb the unrest of "He-That Shall-Not-Be-Named" and with my life, protect all Egypt against the threat of the Curse of Hom-Dai.  
  
That I give my life in service to those of my people, holding the Honor of the Medjai as my own; I shall protect and cherish my Brother Warriors and their sons, and the wives and daughters of my people.  
  
I swear on my life that I shall use my strength and honor as a Medjai warrior to defend those weaker than myself and those in need, and that against such people I shall raise my weapons only in defense, never to attack.  
  
I seek neither wealth, nor glory for my actions, only to fulfill these sacred vows to the best of my hearts trust and truth. In the name of Allah most Merciful, and of the Old Gods of this land, may my voice be heard, and my oaths recognized, knowing that I shall find only torment and never rest if they be broken through action or inaction and I seek not to right my wrongs.  
  
1.1.1 With blade, blood and bone I will honor this sacred oath.  
  
~*~  
  
Ardeth was able to relax and rest for at three full days after the birth of Alex before he received a summons back to Cairo from the Elders. He left on a cold and rainy afternoon, his mood as foul as the weather since his thigh wound was no better than the days previous. To compound matters, the baby's birth had reminded him of his own son, who now would've been at least two summers old. And of course, he thought of Janan. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever have a family again and although the O'Connell's had treated him more like a relative than a visiting friend, he felt out of place and uncomfortable.  
  
On the chartered flight, he knew he was becoming feverish and the pressure inside the plane's cabin made his whole leg throb with an intensity that almost robbed him of coherent thought. He tried to sleep but could only manage short, unsatisfying catnaps and when he arrived in Cairo the next morning, the warrior almost stumbled down the steps leading from the plane, his leg stiff and aching.  
  
Wajeeh, Commander of the Second met him at the gates with grim news, his keen eyes noting the pale face and stiff gait of his fellow warrior.  
  
"Ardeth." Wajeeh pulled down his face covering and greeted him. "Assalamu alaikum."  
  
"Peace be upon you, my friend."  
  
"I bring grave news and I am to escort you back to my village." The older warrior stated. "Aliyy was taken last night, during a raid on his village. The Elders of our tribes are concerned, fearing this may be a sign of things to come and they have called the summit for today, to start once we arrive."  
  
The two men left the airfield and walked over to where Wajeeh had several of his men waiting with the horses. Silently the other commander struggled to lift himself into the saddle, not acknowledging Wajeeh's look of concern and stubbornly refusing to admit to any show of weakness. Finally, with a shaky sigh, Ardeth was seated and Wajeeh gave the command to ride.  
  
"Aliyy's village was attacked last night?" Ardeth asked as they rode, trying anything to keep his mind off his nagging injury.  
  
"Yes, and by the attack formation, these men were well trained, almost like the militia from the forts. My friend, they were heavily armed and from what I'm told, Aliyy never had a chance."  
  
"So the reason for the summit has changed." Ardeth concluded.  
  
Wajeeh agreed. "The Elders are concerned."  
  
The two men lapsed back into silence until a few hours later, they arrived at the borders of Wajeeh's village and Ardeth noticed the increased sentries and patrols. The horses thundered into the small main square, coming to an abrupt halt in a showering cloud of dust and all dismounted, except for Ardeth. He hesitated until the other commander had ordered his men to their posts, then took a deep breath as he began the slow process of moving and closed his eyes for a brief moment. The sudden attack of vertigo almost made him lose his balance and fall from the saddle - something, which had not happened since he was a toddler first learning to ride. He moved his leg a fraction of an inch and fought back the wave of nausea that came up and lodged in his throat, the pain was so intense it made him sick.  
  
"How long has it been like this?" Came Wajeeh's softly asked question.  
  
Ardeth looked down at his friend and shook his head in denial. "Not long. I'm all right." And with great effort, he swung down from the saddle, holding onto the pommel as he felt his foot touch the ground. Ardeth couldn't help but close his eyes once more against the sharp jabs of pain that radiated up from his thigh. Still holding onto the pommel, he rested his head against the saddle for a moment, trying to regain some of his composure.  
  
"We need for you to see a healer." Wajeeh decided.  
  
"No." Ardeth shook his head and turned towards the other warrior. "I'm fine now. We need to reach the summit."  
  
Reluctantly, Wajeeh agreed and together the men walked towards the far end of town, to one of the buildings where the tribal Elders held their councils and where all of the remaining commanders had gathered, including the Seconds in command.  
  
As they passed by some of Wajeeh's people, Ardeth couldn't help but notice the women who were busy going about their daily chores, going to the well for water or their other duties and all around them were children. Babies were carried against their hips, held against their mother's warm body, and small toddlers that clung onto a hand, chubby legs taking careful steps. Dark heads, full of curls or long, ebony colored hair that had a parent's lingering hand touching them, brown eyes that shone with happiness and love, smiles that were made up of bright, new teeth or none. All smiling, all happy.  
  
One of them could have been his own child and Ardeth felt the long ago suppressed jealously surge through his beleaguered heart and while he wouldn't admit it in the O'Connell's home, seeing the birth of Alex had reminded Ardeth of what he once had and lost. It tortured him, tormented him to think of his life alone and without the love of a wife or family. He looked at the children with envy and longing, in the process not seeing where he was walking and bumped into Wajeeh.  
  
"Ardeth, are you all right?"  
  
The warrior silently nodded his head and the men continued into the building and the council room. It was overflowing with warriors, and as soon as Ardeth walked inside, the almost oppressive heat made his stomach churn in response and he fleetingly wondered if he would be able to stop himself from retching. They walked over to a fairly open space near a window and Ardeth was able to regain some precious control over his trembling body with the help of a faint breeze that blew in from time to time. He leaned against the wall, deferring the remaining chair to Wajeeh out of respect for the older commander but also the fear that once he sat down, he didn't think he could manage to stand again.  
  
The Elders called the meeting to order but not before offering a prayer to Allah for guidance and understanding for these troubled times. They then noted all of the commanders present and one old man stood up and began addressing the assembled. His voice droned on, almost sounding like a pleasant hum to Ardeth whose concentration was slipping due to lack of sleep. He nodded once, then twice but snapped awake when he heard the Elders mentioning the chest of He That Shall Not Be Named. And in quick succession, the story of the resurrection of the priest by the foreigners, the same who had helped Ardeth return him again to his sandy tomb. They noted that the books of Amun-Ra and of the Dead were still safely buried beneath the sand of Hamunaptra but the chest had been taken to a safe storage sight, away from the city and any future chance if it being stolen and used again.  
  
And now, in fear that Commander Aliyy was dead, the Elders wanted to chest to be removed once and for all, for it represented too much of a temptation to be used in bringing the priest back from the dead.  
  
The Elder turned and addressed Ardeth. "Commander, you have just returned from England, visiting the American and his wife, did you not?"  
  
Ardeth respectfully bowed his head. "Yes."  
  
"And you've mentioned countless times before, how helpful these foreigners have been in exporting certain artifacts away from the City of the Dead, aiding our protection and continued watch over this same city?"  
  
"Yes, I have."  
  
"Then it has been decided by the Elders that we ask that you summons O'Connell back to Cairo, as a favor to you and our people. And have him take the chest back to England for safe keeping."  
  
Ardeth stepped away from the wall, ignoring the shooting pain in his leg as his body reacted as if the suggestion were a threat. "Elder, did I misunderstand you? You wish me to call a man, who's a new father away from his family, and to come and retrieve the chest?"  
  
"I believe I spoke plainly, Commander Bay."  
  
"Then may I be allowed to speak plainly as well?" Ardeth asked evenly and when he received a nod, he continued. "Forgive me for pointing this out, but in the past, you have been the most outspoken opponent against the O'Connell's, have you not Elder? You, who have ordered for them to be shot as trespassers if they dared to approach Hamunaptra again. You now petition me to ask a man, who owes the Medjai nothing but has given his trust and friendship..you ask for him to complete a dangerous task, one that could very well get him killed if our enemy finds out what he carries back to England? This I cannot allow."  
  
Another Elder stood up, his eyes narrowed in anger, his jaw clenching in agitation as he turned on the warrior.  
  
"Commander Bay, show some respect before the Elders. And remember your oath taken as a warrior, or have those vows escaped from your mind, along with your manners?" He challenged. "We are fully aware of your friendship with the American but let me assure you, although you have no right to question us, our motive for seeking his aid is for the greater good."  
  
"One man's help that in turn can help so many." Another Elder gently suggested to Ardeth and smiled, for he had always liked the young commander. "My son, it is the only way."  
  
"As a Medjai, it is your duty to obey." Reminded the first Elder.  
  
Ardeth closed his eyes for a moment, his patience wearing thin from the constant reminder of his duties, and to him the blatant disregard of one glaring fact. They were using his friendship with O'Connell, exploiting it to their advantage and he wanted to protest further until he felt the calm, steady hand of Wajeeh on his shoulder.  
  
"Well Commander Bay? Will you or will you not notify the American?" The first Elder asked impatiently.  
  
"For the greater good.." Wajeeh reminded him softly and slowly, against his better judgment, Ardeth bowed his head submissively towards the Elders.  
  
"As you wish." He stated and gave a weak smile to his friend for his counsel.  
  
The Elders decreed the decision unanimous and the summit proceeded onwards, deciding a message would be sent tonight and an estimation was made that O'Connell would arrive in two days time. Other topics of concern were brought forth, including a report from Aliyy's Second, a warrior named Mahfuz who reported heavy losses at his village and requested reinforcements.  
  
Through it all, Ardeth lost track of time, the many voices flowing over and around him in a distant hum, making his head hurt and his body tremble from exhaustion. When he thought he might have passed out, Wajeeh announced the summit had concluded and invited Ardeth to come to his home for the night as his guest. Walking out into the cool night air revived him somewhat although the change in temperature made his thigh ache with a dull intensity and Ardeth stoically limped beside his friend as they approached the home, a few streets away from the council building.  
  
Later on, after eating a light meal served by Wajeeh's wife, Ardeth retired to a guest room but not before asking for a basin of hot water and some linen. Although curious at the request, Wajeeh's wife complied and once alone, Ardeth disrobed and sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
With careful hands, he pulled his leg onto the edge of the bed, biting back a small groan of pain at how such a simple movement could hurt so much. He slowly unwrapped the bandage from around his thigh and when finally revealed, he studied the slightly swollen area through blurry eyes, then with a heavy sigh, soaked a linen and placed the warm cloth over it. He felt no intense relief like he had felt before, the warmth only alleviated the ache for a few blessed moments before it returned with a vengeance and he tried soaking it again. Eventually, fatigue proved far greater than the constant pain he now felt and slowly, Ardeth fell back against the pillow, sleep claiming him before his dark head was laid to rest.  
  
~*~  
  
The body of the Medjai courier was dumped on the hard sand, his lifeless eyes staring accusingly at his murderers while the pouch he carried was lifted away from his bloody body.  
  
Jahm read the note, and nodded with satisfaction, handing it back to one of his messengers.  
  
"The time has come for us to strike." he said quietly and sent his man onwards, then motioned for the Qutaybah and Kasim to ride out with their men towards the same destination. He estimated that if events went according to his plan, by this time tomorrow night, he would've completed his first task assigned to him and would be able to move on to the more pressing issue - his matter of revenge against the Medjai with his own contingent of men. They patiently waited for sunrise for their next strike. 


	3. Decisions, duty and nightmares

Chap 3  
  
When the first rays of light crept over the horizon, chasing away the dark mantle of night, Ardeth was awake to greet the dawn, having slept poorly. He moved stiffly around the chamber, listening to the comforting, quiet sounds of Wajeeh and his family gathered around the hearth for the morning meal. The sound of a child's laughter, the deep baritone of the father's voice, accompanied by the soft soprano of the mother was a chorus of sounds that intensified the consistent ache in Ardeth's heart. And for a moment, he wished he was the one gathered with his family.  
  
He limped into the main living area and waited silently off to the side until Wajeeh noticed his friend, then rose up to meet him, and invite him to break the fast with them.  
  
"My thanks but I must decline," Ardeth said. "I need to return to my own village and inform Ra'id of the latest developments and the summit's conclusion."  
  
"Of course, then I'll walk you outside," Wajeeh suggested and both men went out into the bright sunshine. In companionable silence, they walked to the stables and Ardeth knew his friend kept glancing at him, most likely noticing his haggard appearance  
  
Once saddled, Ardeth found mounting Sabeeh proved to be as difficult as the day before and Wajeeh silently offered his help since there was no other recourse-he lacked the strength to pull up his body.  
  
"My friend," Wajeeh said quietly. "Heed my advice and once you return to your settlement, seek out your healers? Forgive me for saying but whatever ails you is getting worse."  
  
Ardeth painfully shifted in the saddle, leaned down and grasped his friend's hand in his own, bowing his head slightly over them. "May Allah watch over you and protect you, my friend."  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Wajeeh returned the farewell and watched with a heavy heart as the commander kicked his horse into a quick trot, staying to watch until the figure disappeared from sight. He returned to the comfort of his family and home, only to have the serenity of his village shattered a few hours later when they were viciously attacked.  
  
~*~  
  
O'Connell stood in the doorway of the nursery and leaned against the frame, folding his arms across his chest as he watched his wife and son with a soft smile. Evy was changing the baby's nappy, softly singing while Alex gurgled and waved a tiny fist in the air.  
  
"Sleep, baby, sleep, our cottage vale is deep; the little lamb is on the green," she sang as she dressed him in a nightshirt. "With woolly fleece so soft and clean, sleep, baby, sleep."  
  
She scooped him up and held him against her shoulder, placing a loving hand over his soft, blonde curls as she walked towards the crib.  
  
"There's my little man, all ready for bed." she whispered and laid him to rest.  
  
"Sleep, baby, sleep, down where the woodbines creep; be always like the lamb so mild, a kind and sweet and gentle child." And pulled a fluffy blanket over him as she finished the song. "Sleep, baby, sleep."  
  
She stood by the crib side, one hand resting on the railing, the other gently caressing her son's face while she watched his eyelids slowly flutter close. Rick walked up behind her, his strong arms encircling her waist and Evy immediately leaned against him, a small smile curving her lips.  
  
"Hello Daddy," she murmured. "We just laid down for a nap."  
  
"I see." Rick placed a kiss on her neck and felt her shiver of excitement. "How come you don't put me to bed like that?"  
  
"That's because you're a big boy now; you can take care of yourself silly," Evy laughed. "No, that's not true." He nuzzled the side of her neck. "I need you to take care of me." And he hugged her tighter as they stood in silence for a few moments, both gazing down as their son.  
  
"Evy, I need to talk to you," Rick said quietly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
He sighed. "I got a telegram from Ardeth this morning asking for our help."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, they're moving Imhotep's chest from Egypt and want to bring it here for safekeeping. They're asking me to travel to Cairo to pick it up and he wants to know if you could contact someone at the museum to store it somewhere."  
  
"The chest here? Well, something must be going on if the Medjai to want it removed." Evy turned to face her husband, frowning in anxiety. "Do you think someone wants to raise the priest?"  
  
"That's a possibility," Rick decided. "I think there's more to this request than Ardeth is telling us. I mean that's why he's asking for help but.."  
  
Evy waited for him to finish and when he didn't, she gently prodded him. "But what?"  
  
"I'm not going. I can't leave you and Alex here alone," he said in a rush. "What if something were to happen? I would never be able.."  
  
Evy stopped him with a light touch of her fingers to his lips. "Shhhh. Nothing is going to happen; we can take care of ourselves. Rick, I think you should go. Ardeth rarely asks for help, so it must be important."  
  
"But the doctor said you should still be resting and the thought of you alone in this house.."  
  
"I'm fine; I feel wonderful," Evy assured him. "And besides, I won't be alone. I've got the nanny, the staff and Jonathan."  
  
Rick rolled his eyes at the mention of his brother-in-law's name. "Yeah, like he'll be much help. He's hardly ever here and when he is, it's usually to entertain one of his many 'lady' friends."  
  
"Be nice, darling. He's trying to change but it's hard," Evy defended him. "Responsibility and my brother haven't always seen eye to eye, but he loves Alex so much."  
  
"Love doesn't protect."  
  
"I disagree," she disputed and pulled away from his arms, walking over to the nursery windows overlooking the picturesque landscape. "I'm hoping it protects you, since I'm suggesting you go to Egypt."  
  
"What?" Rick asked, uncertain if he heard correctly and walked over to join his wife. "You want me to leave?"  
  
"Yes, I think you should. Go and help Ardeth, God knows it's been something you've wanted to do since we got engaged. He's our friend, but more importantly, we would be helping him. To protect us all against the evil power the priest would hold over all man kind," she declared. "And besides friendship, go for a more selfish reason."  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"Our son," she said. "Can you imagine the consequences if Imhotep were resurrected again; what kind of future would Alex have?"  
  
Rick shook his head, not wanting to even think about that scenario.  
  
"Just remember," Evy said and placed a tender hand against his cheek, gazing up into those blue eyes she loved so well.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"If you don't come home, I'm coming after you."  
  
"Ah, kind of like when you thought you were going to turn into a mummy." Rick chuckled and gathered his wife into his arms. He dipped his head down and gently brushed his lips against hers in the lightest of kisses. And he couldn't help but grin when he felt her arms slowly entwine around his neck to pull him closer.  
  
"Something like that," she murmured. "So, when do you leave?"  
  
"Uh, as soon as possible."  
  
"What?"  
  
Rick sighed. "Yeah, they need in me Cairo by tomorrow afternoon so it looks like I'm going to have to take a chartered flight and leave within the hour or I won't make it." *Flying was an alternative means of transportation that wasn't a favored way of travel, but since the timing of his arrival was crucial, Rick had no choice, although he preferred to travel by ship.  
  
"O'Connell, you already decided you were going, didn't you?" Evy asked with a sly grin.  
  
"Um actually, yeah," he confirmed. "Maybe what I needed was to hear you say it too."  
  
"Maybe." Evy conceded. "But please be careful, come back to us. Alex needs his father and I need my husband. While you're gone I'll contact someone at the museum for storage of the chest."  
  
Rick touched her cheek with a tender caress. "The gods themselves won't stop me from coming home, I swear this on my heart, Evelyn."  
  
He captured her face with both hands, his mouth descending on hers in an almost desperate kiss as his tongue swept inside her mouth. Their mouths slanted over each other's as they clung to one another, expressing in action what the heart couldn't put into words. And just as suddenly as it started, he abruptly stopped the kiss and turned away. Rick walked out of the nursery without looking back, knowing to do so would cause more harm than good, and left home within the hour on his way to the airport.  
  
*Author's footnote: upon doing some research, I found in the mid 20's, the era in which this takes place, flying was not a favored mode of transportation but was available on some levels. Transatlantic flights actually started in 1919 with crews of two men. The idea of flying really didn't become popular until Charles Lindbergh made his historic flight in 1927. Obviously, I'm taking some liberties here with history.  
  
And more thanks especially to Deana, whose medical knowledge is astounding, Shukran saaHib..(  
  
~*~  
  
The trip back to Ardeth's settlement would have normally taken only a half- day riding a horse at full gallop but with his waning strength, he could barely keep his seat and kept Sabeeh at a steady walk. Twice he almost plummeted from the saddle, fatigue and the heat of the desert a lethal combination that zapped his precious concentration. Alone as he rode over the crests of the dunes, he let his stoic mask of indifference fall away and gave voice to his pain with deep wrenching moans. To show weakness before others was not acceptable, nor did it earn respect. Strength and invincibility were just two small parts of what made up the warrior in Ardeth, to acknowledge it was akin to admitting defeat.  
  
And Ardeth did not accept defeat easily.  
  
Each rock, each shift of his body in the saddle in conjunction to the shift of the horse as it plodded through the rough terrain brought a new level of agony. While he could do nothing but endure it as best he could, vocalizing was a partial release and now one he didn't suppress. In the solitude of his desert world, between the bright blue sky above and the golden sands below, Ardeth was a solitary figure waging an inner war over his exhausted body to stay upright in the saddle.  
  
When he arrived in his village by late afternoon, the settlement was bustling with activity. Warriors were quickly mounting their horses while Ra'id, his Second in command, issued terse orders to send them to the City of the Dead. Ardeth brought his horse to a stop in main square then waited until the younger warrior noticed his arrival.  
  
"Sir, we've sent out another patrol looking for you," Ra'id stated as he rushed over to greet his superior. "You were expected hours ago."  
  
"There was no need, as you can plainly see I've arrived safely." Ardeth could barely hide his grimace of pain as he moved his injured leg forward, preparing to dismount.  
  
"Yes but the Elders have been waiting." and Ra'id's voice trailed off in concern as Ardeth struggled to dismount and almost collapsed. "Ardeth?"  
  
"The Elders have been waiting?" He stubbornly waived off any assistance and tested how much weigh he could put on his leg without it trembling.  
  
Ra'id stepped back. "Yes, since the noon meal. They need to speak to you regarding the summit and there have been some new developments."  
  
"Then let them wait longer, for all I care." Ardeth snapped and pushed himself away from the horse.  
  
"But they've asked me to come and escort you to the council room once you've arrived." Ra'id explained somewhat hesitantly, surprised at the rare and surly attitude displayed by his leader. "And I am to tell you of Commander Wajeeh."  
  
"What of him?" Ardeth asked, fearing the answer.  
  
"We received word late this morning, his village was attacked and the Commander was taken. Just like Aliyy." Ra'id said quietly. "The Elders are certain his capture is but a small part of a bigger conspiracy and they've been waiting for you and the news you bring from the summit. They've also ordered more patrols around Hamunaptra."  
  
"Wajeeh kidnapped." Ardeth shook his head and let out a ragged sigh. At the moment, the one thing he craved was some much needed rest, but duty dictated a higher priority. Instead he gestured for the other warrior to lead the way to the building, pushing his aches to the back of his mind.  
  
They stopped in the doorway but before they entered, Ra'id placed a restraining hand on the warrior's shoulder.  
  
"Ardeth," he said. "It's obvious you're in no condition to meet the Elders at this moment. Perhaps you could relay the information to me and I can stand in your place?"  
  
Ardeth looked at his fellow warrior, a young man he had known since he was a child and had watched with a certain amount of pride as the boy grew into manhood. The youth had taken the oath of the Medjai, had survived the trials of strength, agility, and intelligence and had been given his marks of honor. He wore the sacred tattoos of the warrior sect and Ardeth had been present at his induction. And he knew the younger man's worry was for his welfare but he gently rebuffed his concern.  
  
Ardeth shook his head. "I am fit enough to stand before the Elders, my brother but I need you next to me, in your rightful place."  
  
Slowly Ra'id nodded his acceptance and the two men stepped inside.  
  
The Elders of the Eighth had assembled around a small table that stood at the far end of the room, all talking at once, trying to make their own voice heard above the others as they discussed the recent attacks against the Medjai. The racket coming from the old men set Ardeth's already frayed nerves on edge and he gritted his teeth as his head throbbed in response to the noise. The warriors stopped a few feet short of the table and Ardeth called out his greeting.  
  
"As sala'amu alaikum, Elders."  
  
The men looked up in surprise at seeing Ardeth, and for the moment, it was blissfully quiet.  
  
"Wa alaykum as sala'am, Commander Bay," said Makeen, the chosen spokesman for the Elders. "We had feared you suffered the same fate as Aliyy and Wajeeh, praise Allah that you have arrived safely, if not somewhat tardy from your trip."  
  
"Circumstances forced me to take a longer route from Wajeeh's settlement." Ardeth bristled at the subtle reprimand.  
  
"Circumstances that are more important than the Elders of your tribe?" muttered Kareem.  
  
"In your absence," spoke up another Elder. "We've received word that the American will be arriving in Cairo tomorrow at noon at the Giza port. We need you and a small group of your men to meet him there while Ra'id continues his patrols around the City of the Dead."  
  
Makeen nodded his head. "Yes and we've instructed Commander Nabil from the Fifth to arrive here at dawn tomorrow and accompany you as well, with a small regiment of his men as a precaution. Two non-blooded warriors, from one of the other sects will be already waiting at the port with the chest and will help complete the exchange. Do you have any questions, Commander?"  
  
Although he shook his head, Ardeth was more than surprised at O'Connell's agreement for helping the Medjai, considering his son was just a month old. For this man to leave behind his new family and help Ardeth's people certainly added a new depth to their friendship and the gratitude they would have for the American.  
  
"Good, now we wish to hear the news from the summit. Messages between the tribes have become sporadic and unreliable lately," Makeen instructed.  
  
For the remainder of the afternoon and into early evening, Ardeth recited as best as he could the topics discussed at the Elders meeting until finally, he almost sagged against Ra'id in exhaustion. From standing so long, his thigh pulsed as sharp spear-like tendrils of pain shot his body and he couldn't help but grab onto Ra'id's shoulder for support. His body alternated between chills and hot flashes so gruffly, he asked to be excused to attend to some personal needs.  
  
Without waiting for the Elders to answer, he whispered his plea for needing some fresh air to the other warrior and together, the two men slowly left the building. Once outside, Ra'id helped Ardeth over to the side of the building and leaned him against the wall for support. Ardeth titled his head back against the cold stone as he dragged in droughts of air into his shivering body.  
  
"Ardeth, what in the name of Allah is wrong?" Ra'id asked and began searching the other warrior's body for any new injuries. "Have you been hurt?"  
  
Ardeth felt the hands but when they brushed against his sore thigh, he grabbed them in a vise-like grip, hissing at the pain even the subtlest of touches induced.  
  
"Do not.." he whispered through clenched teeth.  
  
"Your arrow wound," Ra'id exclaimed with sudden understanding. "It is worse since you last saw the healers, is it not?"  
  
Ardeth stubbornly remained silent.  
  
"Merciful Allah, its infected," Without waiting for a reply, Ra'id pulled Ardeth away from the wall and taking half of the warrior's weight onto his own body, they began walking down the road. "We're going to the healer's immediately and I pray they can do something or give something to you before this gets any worse."  
  
"No," Ardeth moaned. "No more blood letting, no more probing..I just need to rest."  
  
"Rest you shall have but at the..."  
  
"No, at my home.please." Ardeth whispered. "Just get me there before I can't walk anymore."  
  
Ra'id complied with Ardeth's wishes and soon the warrior was gently deposited onto his sleeping pallet, his weary body sinking into its softness as a heavy sigh escaped from his lips. He was undressed, the sash, weapons and bandoliers removed, his robe loosened and pulled away. He knew Ra'id could feel his hot, tacky skin as his hands brushed over it.  
  
"You have a fever," he asked quietly, removing Ardeth's boots. "How long have you been like this?"  
  
"It matters not, I need to be ready for tomorrow, the Elders need me at the port."  
  
"We need you there alive not dead."  
  
"I need to obey their instructions," Ardeth countered softly. "For is it not part of our oath as Medjai?"  
  
"Then if I can't get you to the healers," Ra'id suddenly decided. "Then I'll get the healers to come to you."  
  
And before Ardeth could protest, his Second had already left the room, intent on his mission of salvation for his brother warrior. With a sigh, Ardeth closed his eyes for a moment, willing his body to relax, caving into the sweeping weakness and blackness that engulfed his mind.  
  
Whether it was minutes or hours later, Ardeth couldn't be sure since it seemed he had just closed his eyes when Ra'id was standing over him, forcing him awake. He groggily heard the other warrior instruct him to swallow and moments later, felt a bitter tasting fluid slide down his throat. Instinctively, he stopped drinking and stated to choke, spilling some of it out of his mouth.  
  
~*~  
  
"Try again," Ra'id patiently instructed and once more poured the concoction of eucalyptus, cloves and the rind of a pomegranate into Ardeth's mouth. Unfortunately, the brown liquid spilled and Ra'id was forced to give up trying to dispense any more and eyed the half empty cup with apprehension. The healer had been explicit with the directions; the entire dose to be administered or it wouldn't be potent enough to help quell the infection that was raging through Ardeth's body. More had spilled than what was taken and with a sigh, he placed the cup on a nearby stand. Ra'id took his dagger and continued to follow the instructions, pulling down Ardeth's pants until the thigh injury was revealed. His eyes widened at the sight of the infection, an ugly purple swelling, distended away from the skin. And with a grimace he was unable to hide, he slashed at the wound, making several shallow cuts that immediately oozed yellowish liquid. He pressed a clean linen against it repeatedly, wiping away as much of the infection as he could, then wrapped the thigh once more.  
  
Ardeth remained unconscious during all of this and the warrior didn't know it that was a good omen or not. What he did know was that it was all he could do, and Ra'id disliked his intuition that even now, it still wasn't enough.  
  
~*~  
  
His body felt like it was on fire, the center of the heat radiating from his thigh and sweeping through his body, spreading out through his limbs and making them weak from the scorching heat. He twisted in bed, torso covered in sweat, hands clenching the covers as he relieved a nightmare from the past.  
  
Hands, holding him down, unrelenting, strong, forceful..he surged against them, felt them hit his already battered body..blood..blood over his face, down his chest, the metallic smell, the taste of it..hands that pushed him down on his knees in submission...hands that held his body as it strained for freedom, to break away..get away and get to his wife...Janan.  
  
More hands dragged her out into the open, forced her down to the ground, punishing her, abusing her..they held onto her body even as she strained for release, even as she looked into the face of death looming before her..then she looked at him, dark eyes imploring..frightened..  
  
He pushed against those hands, cursing their power over him..a blood curdling scream and those same hand forced his head back up to watch.oh Merciful Allah, he was made watch..he couldn't look away..  
  
hands that held the sword struck again and again..until there was nothing left to hold down.  
  
He moaned her name over and over, his dark head rolling back and forth on the pillow, as if to escape what was replaying in his mind. He gasped and cried out, his body arching as if he felt the pain from his dream and struggled to escape. But the nightmare still continued its predetermined course.  
  
Hands threw him to the ground..punches and kicks rained over his body but he still looked up..he had to see..see what was left of Janan..blood, so much blood...a limp hand curled upwards, towards him as if seeking help, a tiny lifeless body lay next to her..and he felt a scream well up from his throat.the ground turned dark red...ever widening pools of blood slowly seeped towards him and he jumped up to run away..no longer feeling any hands restraining him...  
  
He turned back ...and saw her bloody hands reaching towards him...trying to grasp him..to hold him..to accuse him.  
  
"You didn't save me, why?" The hands implored. "Why couldn't you save me and our son? Why? Why?"..he wanted to run, run away from those hands but stood immobile..and unable to stop the cry of torment that sprang up in his throat.  
  
Ardeth bolted upright in bed, his eyes wild with fear, his throat constricting against his hoarse cry of anguish that instead, came out as low moan of agony, like the sound of a wounded animal. And one with shaking hand, he wiped his face from the wetness, sweat and salty taste of tears as he took several deep breaths to calm his still racing heart.  
  
The dream, how long had it been since he last relived it? Since he last remembered the day Janan had died? He had thought he had come to terms with her death, accepting it, just as he had accepted his decision to live. Each day a triumph over his sorrow, until now.  
  
He shifted on the bed and his thigh surged up with a new wave of pain, which raced through his body and stole his breath away. Reminding him that he wasn't immune to injury, just as he wasn't immune to sorrow, a man still burdened from the death of his wife. With a small, humorless laugh, Ardeth fell back onto the pillows, berating himself for thinking he had fully recovered from that sad day and turned his head towards the window.  
  
Sleep was elusive now as it had been for the past several nights, and he stared out into the night sky, gazing into the star-studded canopy above but missing the beauty of it. Instead, he saw her as he always did - her smiling face, the softness of her hair, the gentleness in her touch.  
  
But her eyes held a silent accusation and Ardeth remained awake, unable to shake the remnants of the dream, and watched as the dark greeted the dawn. 


	4. The bond of warriors and prelude to disa...

Chap 4  
  
Filled with a temporary sense of well being from Ra'id ministrations the night before, Ardeth prepared himself for the ride to meet O'Connell with relative ease the next morning. He was mounted on Sabeeh when Nabil and his men rode into the settlement and before the other commander could call out a greeting, he promptly gave the order to ride out, for time was of the essence.  
  
They rode at a brutal pace, needing to cover as much ground as possible to arrive in Giza by noon but halfway through the trip, Ardeth began to feel the telltale signs of weakness. Slowly, his horse faded to the back of the group as his concentration worsened, something of which he wasn't aware until Nabil came riding along side him, having pulled his horse back as well.  
  
"We have slowed down," Nabil stated the obvious.  
  
"Yes," came his short reply.  
  
"We need to ride faster or we'll never arrive in time for O'Connell's departure off the boat."  
  
"We will make it," Ardeth replied and shifted in the saddle, his hand unconsciously resting on his injured thigh, as if by touch, he could rub away the pain. Ardeth watched Nabil glance down at the gesture and he clenched his teeth in annoyance waiting for the inevitable questions regarding his injury.  
  
"Has it been bothering you?" Nabil asked.  
  
"No," he snapped. "I'm fine."  
  
"I say otherwise." Nabil ignored the clipped reply, more concerned with his friend's apparent exhaustion. "Anyone can plainly see you're not well."  
  
"Leave it be," he ordered almost desperately. "As a brother, I ask this of you; please let it be."  
  
"How can I, when this wound could cost you your life? The risk is too great.."  
  
"The risk is mine and only mine to take. We must get the chest to O'Connell and shipped to England. Once it is safely in his hands," Ardeth paused to ignore a jolt of pain emitting from his thigh. "Then will I need help."  
  
"Help?" Nabil asked.  
  
"Help me get to the healers. I.I'm not sure if I can make it on my own," Ardeth said hoarsely, finally admitting that his body was slowly succumbing to the infection.  
  
Nabil sighed, clearly not pleased with his decision. "Then you have my word, my friend."  
  
They continued the journey in silence, at a pace that almost depleted what was left of Ardeth's waning strength.  
  
The men arrived at the port a little before noon, and spurred their horses down into one of the side streets, quickly obscuring themselves from public view and any unwanted attention. With a silent gesture the commanders signaled their men to take their positions in case of attack and then dismounted. Ardeth couldn't help but cling to Sabeeh's saddle in an effort to stop himself from falling.  
  
Quietly, Nabil came beside him and offered an arm of support, the two men communicating a silent understanding that Ardeth would somehow make it to the exchange.  
  
They walked down the pier until they arrived at the boat, which had just recently docked and the warriors stood off to the side near some pallets as they waited patiently for any sign of O'Connell.  
  
~*~  
  
He had been waiting for most of the morning as instructed, watching to see when the warriors would arrive so he could alert Sued. He stayed behind the corner of one building, poking his head out to look around and when they finally rode into town, he did nothing but watch in awe and respect at their arrival. These warriors were what the stories and legends were made of; tales of bravery, sacrifice, and honor for the Medjai way of life. Finally seeing them in person immobilized the youth for a moment, making him forget his important duty which had him placed there in the first place. Wide-eyed, he watched as like silent shadows, they dispersed into the populace except for two of them walking towards the pier. He knew they were the commanders Sued had told him about.  
  
Spinning on his heel, Waleed ran away from the building and darted down the street, running towards their temporary hiding place of the past few days.  
  
"Sued!" cried the youth as he burst through the door. "They're here, just arrived."  
  
Sued jumped up and grabbed a nearby burlap cloth. "Help me with this. We have no time to waste."  
  
Quickly the two helpers covered the chest and prepared it for transport out to the boat.  
  
~*~  
  
Jahm had waited, like a vulture circling the skies in search of prey. He had orchestrated the attacks on the two Medjai tribes and had their precious commanders safely tucked away in his camp near the base of a low range of mountains. He was privy to all of their messages as he methodically replaced each Medjai with his own man and soon, he would move one of the final pieces into place. He was never one for playing foolish games, but he found the taste of this one suited him and the taste was something close to absolute power.  
  
With supreme confidence, he had sent Kasim and Qutaybah to do his bidding in Cairo, while he returned to camp to gather his remaining forces for an assault. Each man had been assigned his prospective targets; Kasim would lead the first assault and while the Medjai were distracted, Qutaybah would retrieve the chest.  
  
He knew that eventually the Medjai would find him and attack, in which case he wanted to be fully prepared for the battle which was inevitable.  
  
Kill or be killed, it was the way of his life and he intended to be victorious.  
  
~*~  
  
Olivia Merriweather stood on the gangplank of the ship and closed her eyes briefly against the wave of heat that engulfed her, almost taking her breath away. She opened them a moment later to survey the crowded pier below, teeming with people, vendors, camels, livestock and only God knew what else. The bright beauty of the robin's egg blue sky overhead partnered with the full strength of the sun made the world below seem somehow golden, almost perfect. But Olivia knew better, having been fully versed on the dangerous side of visiting Cairo by her husband, Allan. Perfection was only an illusion and if not careful, one that could get a person killed.  
  
Married for three months, the couple was on an extended honeymoon, traveling to exotic places around the world and coming to Egypt to visit the famous pyramids at Giza. Since the discovery made by a fellow Englishman named Howard Carter two years ago, it had become quite popular among the elite of London to visit and trek through the Sahara desert imagining themselves on a journey of discovery of their own.  
  
Olivia felt the gentle pressure of Allan's hand on her elbow and that pulled her away from her musings, as it was silent command to continue and she slowly continued down the plank, until safely deposited on the pier near a cart loaded with luggage.  
  
"Are you all right, love?" Allan's voice murmured in her ear. "Is this dreadful heat too much?"  
  
Oliva shook her head and gave him a wan smile of assurance. "I'm fine."  
  
"That's my girl," Allan praised. "Now where in the world did Midge run off too?"  
  
The couple looked through the crowd until Olivia spotted the red haired woman finally descending the plank, her arms full of small bags. "Here she comes now, dear."  
  
"Good. Stay here a moment, will you?" he asked. "I need to speak to Taheer about tonight's accommodations."  
  
And before Olivia could answer, Allan was threading his way back through the crowd and up onto the ship, his focus centered on finding their tour guide.  
  
A moment later, Midge Sinclair, newly hired personal maid and friend stood by her side, balancing a small valise in her arms while giving the rest of the bags to a nearby porter. Once free, she turned to Olivia and with an exasperated sigh, blew a stray curl from her face.  
  
"Forgive me for saying, ma'am but it feels like we're standing in bloody hell, it does," she said.  
  
Olivia gasped. "Midge, do watch your language, its most unladylike."  
  
"Well then, rather warm isn't it..Ma'am?" Midge amended with a twinkle in her green eyes. The young woman's trait for being outspoken was a constant source of amusement to Olivia, a thorn in the side of manners for Allan. If Olivia ever guessed the truth behind matters, she would find out Allan only kept the maid around as a companion for his beautiful wife, so he could be free to run off and pursue other matters. Most importantly, who was playing at the gaming tables.  
  
"Yes, it is," Olivia chuckled.  
  
"Would you be wanting to change into something cooler once we reach the hotel?" Midge offered.  
  
"That's a lovely idea. Meanwhile, perhaps you and I could." Olivia's idea for visiting the stall of a nearby vendor was suddenly interrupted when she spotted two men coming towards them and her eyes widened in surprise at their intimidating appearance.  
  
They were dressed in black, three layers of clothing gathered at the waist with a sash and armed with bandoleers, pouches and scabbards with swords, slung over broad shoulders. They wore turbans but unlike the ones worn by the locals or the Bedouin she had seen in brochures, these were high in the front and it seemed the cloth they were made from wrapped down and around their faces, covering the features and leaving on the eyes visible.  
  
The warriors had stopped near a stack of pallets, a few feet from where she was standing and the one man leaned against his companion for a moment, obviously taking the weight off a sore leg. She could hear them quietly talking to each other, but when one of them pulled down his face covering, she couldn't help but find him attractive. The warrior's long, ebony colored hair escaped the bottom of his turban to hang in heavy ringlets around his broad shoulders, and his cheeks were marked with dark, almost crescent shaped tattoos. His face was clean-shaven except for a full, thick mustache that graced his lips but the breath taking surprise came from his eyes, colored gray like the sky before a thunderstorm and Olivia felt helpless to stop her bold staring. She felt her face flush red with embarrassment when they made eye contact and she sighed over her appalling response. She was a married woman for goodness sake, not some young debutante flirting with a lord at an evening social.  
  
"I see you've spotted the devil and his disciple," Midge whispered her observation of the two warriors.  
  
"Hush," Olivia admonished. "They might hear you."  
  
"I highly doubt it," the younger woman snorted in disbelief. "I don't believe they understand a word of English."  
  
"Ignorance of our language is not an excuse for rudeness," Olivia gently chided.  
  
"Nor is staring," Midge dryly quipped.  
  
"I wasn't staring," she defended herself. "I was merely curious, end of subject. Now help me look for Allan, I don't see him anywhere on the ship's deck."  
  
"Yes ma'am," and Midge shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she stood on tiptoe, straining to find her employer among the last of the passengers disembarking. Her eyes wandered over the last few people, resting on one particular man, who certainly seemed taller and bigger than most, and one eyebrow arched in silent appreciation of his handsome good looks.  
  
~*~  
  
While it may have only been a matter of a few minutes waiting for the American to come off the ship, to Nabil, it seemed like an eternity. His concentration was split between watching for O'Connell and keeping an apprehensive eye on Ardeth, whose condition was rapidly deteriorating. He felt Ardeth lean on him heavily for support.  
  
As his alert gaze swept over the dock area, he noted with satisfaction that his men were at various strategic positions in case of attack. It then rested for a moment on two women who were standing to his left, a few feet away near a wagon full of luggage. He started to dismiss them as part of the never ending flow of tourists that came to Cairo each day, but instead, it lingered on one who seemed to be captivated by him. A quick assessment of her dress, mannerisms and speech declared her to be English, and he noted the one delicate hand holding an umbrella for shade. Too fragile to last very long in his desert world. Nabil turned his attention back to Ardeth, giving the English woman not another thought.  
  
~*~  
  
Ardeth rested heavily against Nabil, his breath coming in short gasps as he fought to remain conscious. He felt like he was suffocating; heat from his fevered body coming up in a wave under his face covering and he fought the urge to rip it off. He could feel droplets of sweat roll down his back and his knees started to tremble, all signs that he was dangerously ill, signs he had chosen to ignore until now. Ardeth blinked his eyes, in an effort to clear his vision and he suddenly realized Nabil had been talking to him, but the roaring in his ears had drowned out some of the words.  
  
"..hear me?" Nabil repeated and placed a hand on his shoulder. He gasped and Ardeth knew that he must have felt the heart radiating from his body at the touch. "Merciful Allah..."  
  
"Do not ...fear," he said, stopping any protest the other commander might have made. "I'm all right..for now."  
  
Nabil frowned but repeated his statement. "O'Connell is coming off the ship."  
  
"And the helpers?"  
  
"They've been alerted and will arrive shortly," Nabil pointed at the road behind them. "Positioned over there with a few of my men."  
  
"Good." Ardeth said weakly and suppressed a shudder from the chills racing through his body.  
  
"I must say this," Nabil faced the other commander. "Do you know what you're asking of me? You jeopardize your life for this...  
  
"Till death, remember my brother?" Ardeth pulled down his face covering and gave a small, sad smile. "I promise once we see this through...min fadkak, help me get to the healers."  
  
Nabil slowly nodded his agreement. "Yes in shaa' allah." 


	5. When Friend and Hero Fall

Chap 5  
  
O'Connell spotted the Medjai commanders as he walked down the gangplank off the ship and weaved through the crowded pier. As he came closer, he immediately knew something was wrong with Ardeth, noticing the pale and withdrawn face, and how much weight he was taking off his injured leg. A grimace of pain that flashed over the usually stoic Medjai's face confirmed Rick's suspicion; a suspicion that he'd formulated back home on the first night of Ardeth's stay when he had asked his friend about the wound. At first he actually thought the exchange would be problem free, but his instincts were sending him warnings. He felt is if they were being watched and he scanned the surrounding buildings, looking for any perceived threats.  
  
"O'Connell," Ardeth called out and the men exchanged greetings.  
  
"Ardeth, Nabil, good to see you again," Rick said. "Too bad it couldn't be under different circumstances."  
  
"Is the captain aware your boarding the ship again with some cargo?" Nabil asked.  
  
"Yeah, we made the arrangements before I left," Rick frowned watching Ardeth who seemed incapable of following the conversation. "I guess now we just wait for the chest?"  
  
"I'll send a man to check on the progress of the helpers," suggested Nabil and walked a few yards away, signaling to a nearby warrior.  
  
"Ardeth?" Rick turned back to his friend. "Are you feeling okay?"  
  
"I wish this was under different circumstances," Ardeth murmured regretfully and grasped Rick by the shoulders. "But my friend, you must listen to me carefully. No matter what may happen here, get the chest on the ship. Take it and get out of here, do not look back.for the love of Allah, I ask this of you."  
  
"Trouble." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and Rick took that meaning from the look of desperation in the warrior's eyes, a look he never thought to see. "You need my help."  
  
"La! No, I need you to leave here.my people are counting on you to complete this task." Ardeth closed his eyes as another shiver went through his body and then opened them a moment later. "As am I."  
  
Rick gave a small humorless laugh. "What, something else that doesn't involve me?"  
  
"Yes, something like that." Ardeth agreed with a feeble smile.  
  
"The last time 'something' that didn't involve me came up, I got my ass kicked by Adham. That's something I'm not going to forget very easily."  
  
"O'Connell."  
  
"It's ok though, you win this round. I'll go be the good little errand boy like I should but," Rick paused, allowing just a hint of emotion to flare up in his eyes. "If I find out something happened to you, I'm coming back here. There won't be a rock big enough, a pyramid high enough or a camel fast enough to keep them from me."  
  
He reached out his arm in a silent gesture and without hesitation, Ardeth gripped it around the forearm, as both men silently reinforced their friendship.  
  
Nabil joined them a moment later and announced the helpers would arrive momentarily.  
  
~*~  
  
With a vicious twist of his knife, Kasim killed the Medjai warrior, his hand clamped over the man's mouth to muffle any cry of alarm, then let the limp body fall to the ground with a sickening thud. Twenty of his best riflemen had slowly circled the pier and were now positioned surrounding their quarry, lying in ambush on rooftops and behind vendor stalls. Five more of his men waited on horseback with Qutaybah's men, who were stationed just beyond the next street, watching for his signal to attack.  
  
Kasim crept out from behind his concealment and peered around the corner of the building. He recognized the time had come to strike; the two warriors were conveniently standing with the American. He saw the helpers struggling as they walked up with the chest, seized the opportunity and gave his battle cry to attack.  
  
The pier erupted in gunfire.  
  
~*~  
  
The first volley of bullets that sprayed through the air spurred Rick into action and he dove for cover behind a nearby wagon of cargo. Men on horseback stampeded through the street adding to the chaos as innocent spectators screamed in fear and scattered. Nabil threw himself to the opposite side, near the large stack of pallets but Ardeth was chased away from the dock area and out into a small open square. Immediately three men surrounded the commander and Rick could only watch helplessly as it became apparent Ardeth was fighting for his life.  
  
He rolled over onto his knees and pulled out his pistols, returning as much gunfire as he could, glancing over to find Nabil in a similar situation. He was slowly being surrounded by five men as they advanced, swords drawn a ready for an attack. The warrior moved sideways, towards a woman who was screaming in terror and slowly pushed the resistant body behind him.  
  
"Nabil!" Rick yelled and fired off a couple of rounds to help.  
  
"La, help Ardeth," he answered and drew his scimitar. "Do it now!"  
  
Rick swore under his breath but did as instructed and swung back towards his friend, only to be pinned down as another hails of bullets chipped off bits and pieces of wood from the wagon. He ducked for cover, and used that time to reload, then surfaced to fire again.  
  
~*~  
  
Nabil spun around and grabbed the woman by the shoulders with a rough shake, in an attempt to stop her hysterical screaming. Her eyes were wild with fright. Her hands were held out rigidly in front of her and he could see splatters of blood all over her shoulder and up onto her face. Blood no doubt from her red haired friend, killed instantly when a stray bullet lodged into her forehead.  
  
"Do you want to live?" Nabil demanded harshly.  
  
Her screaming suddenly stopped but without waiting for her reply, Nabil grabbed her hand and propelled her towards the stack of pallets. He threw her against them, then slammed his body against hers, effectively protecting her and surprising the English woman with the sudden contact.  
  
She gasped and stared up at him. He saw shock and embarrassment in her eyes, but she grabbed onto his robe, craving the safety that came with his sudden almost intimate closeness.  
  
"Move and you die. Stay behind me and you may live to greet another sunrise." Nabil ordered roughly and spun around again to meet the oncoming charge of an enemy.  
  
His scimitar rang out with a metallic clang as it met the downward arc from the other man's sword in an upward swing as the warrior parried the vicious blow. He recovered from the block and with a few precise thrusts, ended the fight with a quick and deadly cut to the jugular. The man toppled to the ground as his life's blood poured from his slit throat.  
  
There was no glory, no display of skill or even honor in the carnage that followed, as more men quickly replaced the one that had fallen.  
  
Nabil's scimitar moved in a blur of sharp cuts and flashing steel, the sunlight glancing off the once silver blade that was now tinged ruby red. The woman clung to him in silent desperation, her whimpers of horror somehow heard above the grunts and groans of the dying. Her grasp hampered his movements.  
  
When he dispatched the last man, there was only a blessed moment to recoup his strength and he turned back towards the woman, pressing himself against her body and pushing her further into the pallets. He heard the small groan of pain she held back and for a moment, he regretted any injury he may have caused.  
  
Nabil started to warn her again but suddenly her eyes shifted over his shoulder and widened in alarm. He reacted without thought and shoved her to the ground, pushing her down to her knees, then covering her trembling body with his own as bullets splintered the wood overhead.  
  
"Please," he ordered urgently in her ear. "Do not move."  
  
When the shooting had stopped, he jumped up to face a new charge from the enemy, leaving the woman cowering on the ground to watch the men fighting, an expression of horror on her already pale face.  
  
Nabil had fought as valiantly as possible but the constant struggle was beginning to wear on the commander and his arm grew weak from the ringing blows of his opponents. Fighting one man had turned into fighting four and his lip curled back with a defiant sneer when more men came to the aid of their brethren.  
  
Legs braced apart, chest heaving from the toll of the battle, Nabil stood like an avenging god of war, defiant and beckoning those who were brave enough to come forward.  
  
"Who else wishes to feel the bite of my blade?" he taunted and vaguely thought of his oath.  
  
Till death.  
  
His attackers paused for a moment, fear and disbelief written plainly on their faces, and signs of a grudging respect for the lone Medjai that had single-handedly killed so many of their own. The scales in the balance tipped precariously to one side, then tipped back the other way. From the crowd of men emerged the muzzle of a gun, then a white puff of smoke billowing into the blue sky.  
  
The bullet ripped into Nabil's shoulder, spinning the warrior off balance even as his body tried to compensate from the momentum. He staggered, but still remained on his feet.  
  
The enemy recovered from their initial surprise, charged forward with a ringing battle cry and within moments, Nabil collapsed under their onslaught. The Medjai was finally down and was taken captive.  
  
~*~  
  
Olivia cringed on the ground, her hand covering her mouth, quietly sobbing with fright from what she had just witnessed. There was blood everywhere, on her clothes, her hair, mingling with sand and changing it into an ever- increasing maroon colored circle. She wanted to close her eyes, block out the sight of so many men being killed and to stop seeing her rescuer gunned down.  
  
She watched them pick up the limp, black clad body and carry it away, her numb mind not registering they were coming for her until it was too late.  
  
They reached for her, with evil smiles and rough hands, jerking her to her feet and pulling her away from the sanctuary of the pallets. They pushed off her hat and her hair came cascading down, shining like beaten gold in the sunlight and they touched it, pawed at it until a terse command was issued.  
  
Olivia found her voice at the last moment. And she screamed for her husband over and over, fighting, kicking, and scratching at her captors until she was backhanded across the face. Dazed, she was pulled up onto a horse and was quickly taken away from the port.  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
"Damn it!" Rick bellowed, and ducked behind the wagon to reload his guns. So far, his helping Ardeth had been minimal, only being able to stop more men from joining the existing fight. Every time he had another within his sites, it seemed as if the enemy knew it and kept up a constant barrage of bullets effectively pinning him down.  
  
He moved to another section behind the wagon and peered out, his eyes widening in shock when he saw how poorly the warrior was fighting.  
  
Whereas once he had seen Ardeth move in battle with a feline grace and agility, now his movements were sluggish and choppy, the weight of his scimitar seemingly too much for his arm to wield. The body that should have been fluid in motion and form now seemed awkward and lethargic, covered with a small number of cuts. A glaring indication that all was not well with him.  
  
Rick couldn't help but wince along with Ardeth when a man came in too high with a thrust from his sword, slashing a bloody red line across the forearm. In retaliation, Rick fired his guns and felt the first twinge of satisfaction when one man finally went down.  
  
Two men left and Ardeth was fighting worse than ever.  
  
O'Connell ducked behind the wagon when gunfire made him scramble for cover but he twisted back out and fired in return.  
  
One man left and this one was stubborn, dancing safely away from Ardeth's limited range with clearly no intention of letting the Medjai come in too close.  
  
O'Connell watched as his friend overcompensated for this and moved awkwardly into the direction of a thrust towards the Medjai's exposed side. Rick reacted without thinking and heedless of his own safety, rolled away from the cover of the wagon, and to his knees firing off several shots. The man finally fell to the ground, leaving the warrior standing alone if not somewhat unsteady on his feet.  
  
Suddenly, a rider came up from behind Ardeth and with malicious precision, took careful aim with his rifle.  
  
Rick saw the threat and screamed a warning for his friend, but in his heart he already knew it was too late.  
  
He saw Ardeth spin slowly around and face the enemy, his scimitar almost hanging uselessly from his hand, his body swaying as he fought to remain standing. Rick jumped up and started running, his legs feeling like they were mired in mud, his guns firing the remaining bullets as his fingers pressed the trigger over and over. They continued clicking until the barrels were empty but O'Connell still charged forward, intent on saving his friend even at the cost of his own life.  
  
A white puff of smoke erupted from the rifle and a second later, Ardeth's body crumpled to the ground, his body crashing to its side and lying there as his robes slowly settled like a black shroud around him.  
  
Rick heard someone screaming and dimly realized it was him, calling Ardeth's name over and over in disbelief, praying to God that his friend was alive. He never saw the rifle raised again, nor did he see the warning of the smoke to herald the arrival of the next bullet. It slammed into his shoulder, knocked him off his feet and he landed with a heavy thud onto the sand, only a few feet way from the Medjai.  
  
Intense pain swept over him, almost paralyzing his mind, but certainly not stopping his body and Rick moved forward a fraction of an inch. His hand was outstretched in the sand, reaching, wanting to touch and confirm that Ardeth still lived.  
  
"Ardeth!" He cried and moved again.  
  
Through blurred vision, he saw the pier empty of its combatants, bodies picked up and carried away and he vaguely heard someone yell "Medjai." None of that mattered to him now and he crawled forward again, fingertips almost touching Ardeth's shoulder.  
  
Two figures suddenly materialized from the hazy edges of his eyesight and one bent over the fallen body of the commander, a hand reaching down and checking for any signs of life.  
  
"Tell me," Rick groaned. "Tell me he's alive."  
  
He saw the negative shake of the head and over the roaring in his ears, he heard the anguished reply.  
  
"There is nothing that can be done. Nothing."  
  
"No."  
  
They scurried around and quickly picked up the limp body, Ardeth's dark head rolling to the side, and they carried him away.  
  
"No." He watched them disappear back into the misty edges of his eyesight and still he struggled to see where they were taking his friend. He tried to move once more, but his body slumped weakly to the ground.  
  
"No."  
  
"Commander, over here." A new voice called out and Rick rolled over onto his back, waiting to see if this new person was friend or foe. All around him, he had the vague sensation of black clad men running through the area and wondered if this was a rescue.  
  
"O'Connell?" Asked another voice and Rick found himself staring up into the face of an older warrior, his beard sprinkled with gray, the same crescent tattoos on a face that looked reminiscent of Ardeth's.  
  
"Who.the hell wants to know?" Rick gasped.  
  
"I am Commander Quadamah of the Fourth. What in the name of Allah has happened here?"  
  
Rick rolled his head to one side, staring at the spot on the ground where the body of his friend had once laid. He was losing his grip on consciousness and he whispered one final sentence before finally passing out.  
  
"They killed him," he said. "Ardeth Bay . is. dead." 


	6. Aftermath and rules of survival

Chap 6  
  
Sued and Waleed drove their small two wheeled cart with a vengeance away from the massacre at Giza and raced towards Fayum and the healers compound. Behind them lay the tarp covered body of a Medjai that Waleed tried to save. Instead, they now acted as bearers of the dead and brought the body to Il-Bint Bitaa'tibbi for the burial preparation.  
  
They arrived outside the compound early in the afternoon and waited for the sentry posted to allow them admittance, then drove through the large wooden gates. Sued brought the cart into the main square and searched for the head master, Abdul-Nasir but instead, a young woman approached the cart and called out her greeting.  
  
"Where is your mentor?" Sued asked as Waleed jumped down from the seat, then he followed.  
  
"He was called to the Seventh and Second Tribes with two of my sister healers to help tend to the wounded. Honored helper, surely you know of Commanders Aliyy and Wajeeh?"  
  
"Yes, of course." Sued sighed and walked over to the young woman. "And I bring more sad news."  
  
He gently took her by the arm and escorted the healer to the back of the cart and where Waleed waited further instructions. Quickly he told her of the fight at Giza and the staggering loss of many warriors and two more commanders.  
  
"Waleed thought to rescue one but we were too late," Sued motioned for the youth to pull off the tarp from the body. "We need you to prepare him for burial while we ride back to Cairo and find a way to alert his tribe."  
  
"Of course," the woman agreed and signaled for the sentry Solman to help Waleed carry it inside the preparation room. Sued saw her glance at the warrior's pale face and he noted the look of sadness in her eyes. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder in silent understanding. "This is a sad day for us all."  
  
"Yes," she whispered.  
  
Sued and Waleed climbed back into the cart's seat as he gathered the reins in his hands. "My thanks for your help. We will send a message to you from his tribe as soon as they're located."  
  
Quickly both helpers left the compound.  
  
~*~  
  
Kasim and the remains of his regiment rode back to Jahm's camp with the utmost speed, their destination a two day ride from Cairo. For the most part, he had been successful in completing his assigned task; except how to explain to his chief the death of Commander Bay. Jahm had been explicit with his instructions on wanting the commanders alive and to further complicate matters, his men thought to compensate for that loss by kidnapping an English woman, who would be eventually sold on the slave market. He could only hope the successful simultaneous attack by Qutaybah's men would appease his leader's notorious and deadly temper.  
  
Near dusk, he gave the command to stop, ordering the men to dismount and rest for the night. Judging by the distance covered, he estimated they would arrive in camp near late afternoon tomorrow. The captives were pulled from their horses and thrown together near the outer rim of the main fire, and some of the men started touching the English woman suggestively, making lewd remarks and gestures. Kasim watched with a mixture of boredom and amusement as the men continued their harassment. The woman was slapping at their hands in futile defense but his interest peaked when the Medjai came stumbling to her aid. Although his hands were tied, the warrior lowered his good shoulder and pushed the woman behind him, challenging the men to fight him instead.  
  
The commander finally went down after several men converged on him, kicking and beating him senseless. Kasim called a stop to it and ordered the unconscious warrior to be taken near the edge of the camp, and staked like an animal, with no food or shelter from the approaching cold temperatures of the night. The woman was brought before him in his tent and made to kneel down in submission, while he leisurely ate his meal. From time to time, he would stare at her, appreciating the golden highlights of her hair and how her gaze traveled everywhere in the tent except to rest on him. She sat rigidly, with her hands folded in front of her and Kasim swore he heard her stomach growl with hunger, yet she refused to ask.  
  
"Eat," he threw a piece of flatbread onto her lap.  
  
"No thank you," she replied stiffly. "I find my appetite somewhat…lacking."  
  
Kasim raised an eyebrow over her defiance but couldn't help chuckling. She would soon learn.  
  
"Drink," he ordered and threw a small water pouch by her side.  
  
The woman was about to utter another retort but Kasim stopped her with an angry wave of his hand.  
  
"Tawa," Kasim snarled and amended the command when it looked like she didn't comprehend. "Obey."  
  
"I beg your pardon, but I certainly will not," she cried in outrage. "This is a barbaric, uncivilized land and you, sir, are a heathen. I demand my release and to be taken back to Cairo and my husband."  
  
Kasim jumped up, reached out and slapped her soundly across the face. The blow rocked her head back and she collapsed on her side. As she lay there dazed, Kasim grabbed her by the hair and jerked her face close to his, his eyes glittering with anger.  
  
"You demand nothing, ma shi," he snarled. "I am your owner now, and you will obey me or I will beat you."  
  
Her eyes widened in horror at the threat of further abuse and Kasim felt a strange twinge of regret over the tears that gathered in her eyes, but that refused to fall. Instead they glistened like tiny jewels on her long lashes as she lowered her eyes in submission.  
  
"Do you obey?" Kasim asked gruffly.  
  
"Yes," came the whispered reply.  
  
He released her with a flick of his hand and returned to his cushions, calmly picking up his own water pouch and drinking deeply. Droplets of water spilled down his chest and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching the English woman slowly sit up and smooth out her rumpled clothing.  
  
"Eat," Kasim commanded again and felt a perverse sense of power when she complied.  
  
He nodded his head in satisfaction and began a new lesson for the night.  
  
"You won't be released. My men want you sold on the slave market for your value." He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, letting the silky strands fall through his fingers. "Yellow haired women are uncommon and demand a high price at the slave auctions."  
  
He saw her swallow convulsively in fear, but she remained silent, watching him with a wary look in her eyes.  
  
"Obey and please me and I may be convinced to not sell you. I will keep you for myself," Kasim softly decided.  
  
"And it matters not what I think?" she couldn't help but ask.  
  
Kasim laughed and stretched back on the cushions, pillowing his arms beneath his head.  
  
"You have no say in the matter anymore. Forget your husband, your life, what you were, only remember what you are and will become…." Kasim suddenly leaned forward, his face coming closer to hers and she leaned back, afraid of the sudden closeness.  
  
"And what will I become?"  
  
Kasim smiled, before answering, "Mine."  
  
~*~  
  
After her meeting with Kasim, Olivia was brought outside and placed on the other side of camp, across from the warrior. She was dazed and bruised, her clothes dirty and torn and she struggled not to let a prevailing sense of panic rule any rational thought. The heathen actually thought he could keep her, overriding the fact that she was a loyal subject of Her Majesty, the Queen of England and that she was married. He seemed blissfully ignorant that slavery was outlawed and Olivia felt the farther away from Cairo they traveled, the less there was a chance of rescue. She knew Allan would already be talking to the authorities about her abduction but the panic that gripped her heart made her believe he would never find her out in the desert. She needed someone who knew the terrain and could help her escape. The more she reasoned it out in her mind, the more it made sense.  
  
Olivia needed her protector.  
  
During the night, she found herself peering through the darkness trying to see him, concerned with the way his body trembled. Around midnight, she crept off her sleeping mat and prayed continually as she snuck across the camp until she reached his side.  
  
His hands were pulled out to the front and his whole body shook in small tremors, in reaction to blood loss and the recent beating. She felt her heart constrict with compassion for his suffering and reached out one tentative hand, gently touching him on the shoulder.  
  
He jerked himself awake and rolled partially over until he was facing her and Olivia watched a flicker of surprise flare up in his eyes. Then his features schooled themselves back into his stoic mask of indifference, the only sign of his suffering was the grim set of his mouth.  
  
Olivia ripped off a section from the hem of her dress and gently, she began cleaning his bruised face, noticing again the wonderful color of his eyes. She felt the heat rise in her face when she remembered his body pressed against hers earlier today. Never in her life had someone done such a selfless act as to protect her with their own body and thinking about it made Olivia feel slightly nervous, flustered. And it bothered her she never felt anything remotely like this when Allan held her in his arms.  
  
"Where does it hurt?" she questioned and sighed with frustration when she didn't get a response.  
  
"See, now this is one of life's little ironies. Would you like to know what that is?" Olivia asked as she cleaned the bloody corner of his mouth.  
  
When the warrior said nothing, Olivia continued, undaunted by his silence, too nervous from being with him not to talk. "This is the irony. My father was a doctor, my grandfather and uncles were doctors; I come from a long lineage of physicians. When my parents found out I was a girl rather than a boy, they weren't disappointed. Instead my father still taught me some rudimentary skills at healing, taking care of wounds and that sort of thing. Not every genteel woman knows about medical procedures. " She sniffed.  
  
Nabil blinked in confusion; female healers were quite common among the Medjai.  
  
"And I find it ironic that the one time, I could actually help someone, they're too quiet to tell me where it really hurts." Olivia shifted her position and started to examine his bloody shoulder, gently pulling away the caked material of his robe from the skin.  
  
"Silence woman, lest your chattering gets us both killed," Nabil hissed through clenched teeth as she roughly probed the wound.  
  
"Ah, so he does speak," Olivia confirmed and dug into the injury a little further.  
  
"Kkreff…la min fadlik," the warrior moaned and jerked away. "I need no further help."  
  
"But it's your help that I need," Olivia pleaded and leaned back. "I want to escape and it has to be tonight. I am not going to be sold like…like some horse at an auction and I certainly don't want a new husband in that… that barbarian."  
  
"No…too dangerous in the desert. We would not make it back to Cairo…die trying." His voice faltered, his eyes fluttering close and Olivia feared he was losing consciousness.  
  
"Are you saying you won't help me?" she asked incredulously and gently touched his shoulder.  
  
"Help will come…be patient," he sighed.  
  
"From whom? And when? I don't have time to be patient."  
  
"My people…" Nabil opened his eyes, strong conviction showing clearly in his gaze. "You must trust me."  
  
Olivia wadded up the rag and pressed it against the warrior's shoulder, trying to stop the slow seepage of blood from the injury. He was asking too much of her and yet, the trust he now asked for had already been given. She felt safe with him.  
  
"Thank you for saving my life today."  
  
The warrior closed his eyes in pain and arrogantly nodded. "Go back to your sleeping mat, ya soghair and rest. Tomorrow's journey…will be hard."  
  
"Of course." With a sigh, she left the cloth folded against his wound and slowly, crept back to the other side. Once settled, she found sleep evasive as she stared at the profile of the warrior and when she closed her eyes, it wasn't the face of Allan that haunted her subconscious. 


	7. The Medjai Healer Oath

Chap 7  
  
Medjai Healer Oath  
  
Upon my heart and in the presence of Allah, I make this vow before my people, that according to my ability and judgment I will keep this oath:  
  
As a healer I vow to ease suffering, heal the sick and wounded, bring comfort to those who are in need,  
  
to maintain the best quality of life and to honor my ancestral sister healers before me, learning the wisdom they have passed down from generation to generation.  
  
I will not take a life willingly unless my peers determine there is no alternative and will continue with diligence to keep informed of advances in medicine.  
  
I will treat without exception all that seek my ministrations, so long as the treatment of others is not compromised.  
  
To maintain the utmost respect for all human life from the first spark of creation to natural death, I take this oath with the blessing of Allah and will uphold my vow until my own departure  
  
~*~  
  
Asiya watched the helpers leave the compound and felt another wave of sorrow wash over her heart. She turned around and saw Is'af and Na'ima walk into the building, her heart heavy with the knowledge that inside, there was a man who had died a senseless death. A death she would readily admit she would never condone, although she knew of the warrior's oath and having taken one herself, could understand the willingness to die to preserve the Medjai beliefs.  
  
Knowing the two women were more than capable of starting the preparations, she was about to return to her quarters when Na'ima came running over to her side.  
  
"Is'af and I need you," she said breathlessly and tugged on Asiya's sleeve.  
  
"Why? Surely you both have the knowledge to perform the rituals."  
  
"It's not that," Na'ima urged. "Please hurry."  
  
And they both ran inside the building where Asiya found Is'af standing away from the body, her eyes round with surprise. Something had obviously frightened the healer.  
  
"Is'af? What is the matter?" Asiya asked.  
  
The other woman simply pointed to the body and as if on cue, a low, guttural moan issued from its parched lips and chilled the soul, making the healers petition Allah with prayers for protection.  
  
Asiya felt Na'ima cling to her arm as it became quite apparent that Sued was wrong.  
  
The warrior was alive.  
  
~*~  
  
The healers had discarded the warrior's weapons, robes and left him in the loose fitting pants for modesty's sake as they cleaned the numerous cuts on his body. Asiya cleaned the narrow bloody path left from a bullet on the top of one shoulder but still couldn't find the source of his fever. They all felt it as they tended to him, for it radiated off his body and concerned Asiya. If the source of the infection causing the fever wasn't found soon, they would surely lose him in the end.  
  
"This makes no sense," she muttered and paced around the table while Is'af and Na'ima waited further instructions. "There has to be a wound lower."  
  
"Abdul-Nasir usually tends to those injuries," Is'af said.  
  
"Agreed but he's not here," Asiya countered. "Would you let this man die because we were afraid to remove his pants?"  
  
Na'ima stepped forward. "I am not afraid but suggest we only cut off a portion of the fabric, leaving the rest of him covered."  
  
Moments later, after splitting the pants open on both legs from upper thigh to mid calf they found the cause of the fever, a raging infection on one muscular thigh; a recent wound.  
  
Asiya sighed with relief for now she understood and could treat his illness appropriately. Quickly she called for a kettle of hot water, a stack of clean bandages and a poultice made of elm, wormwood and powdered charcoal. She asked Is'af to make a drink out of the rind of a pomegranate to help the warrior's body rid itself of the fever and the last step was to tie the warrior's hands to the table, to decrease his thrashing about when Asiya started the cleansing. A quick slice of her dagger opened the puffy skin and yellowish fluid slowly started to drain out.  
  
"Again, this makes no sense," she murmured as she bent close to examine it. "See the other marks here and here? Someone else has been trying to heal this man."  
  
"And not very effectively," Is'af dryly observed.  
  
Asiya dipped a bandage into the hot water and glanced over to the other women, hesitating to start the painful process of flushing out the wound.  
  
"Are we ready?" She asked, poised with the steaming material over the thigh, her hands red and stinging from the hot water. Both healers nodded and each pushed down on one shoulder as Asiya flipped the cloth onto the thigh. His reaction was swift and instinctive, his body jerked away from the branding heat of the cloth, an agonized cry ripped from his throat and his hands pulled against their restraints. Each time Asiya cleaned the wound with another hot bandage, wiping away dead skin and infection, the warrior cried out and twisted in agony until his struggles grew weaker. At last, when the wound bled true and free of any contamination, Asiya finally stopped and he sagged back down into oblivion.  
  
All three healers sighed with relief for the hardest part was over, and Asiya bent closer to study the injury. She was certain there was something more to it and was surprised that his own tribal healers had done such an inept job at healing him. Frowning, she noted the size and jagged edges of the skin.  
  
"Looks like an arrow wound to me," Na'ima said as she too leaned in for a closer look.  
  
Is'af also peered over to give her opinion. "Perhaps there is something still in it, for what else could have caused this illness?"  
  
Asiya nodded her head and as gently but as firmly as possible, she pried it open and asked for someone to bring a light closer to help with the examination. Using a small, curved knife, she began probing the wound, acting on instinct rather than fact. She had a particular look on her face indicating the stubborn set of her mind and the two women patiently waited for her conclusions. She grimaced when she heard the warrior moan in agony, briefly closed her eyes against the knowledge she was inflicting further pain as more blood began to seep down his leg and onto the floor, drop by precious life-giving drop. Asiya was ready to stop but suddenly saw a small black object lodged almost down to the bone. Head bent closer, shoulders hunched over, hands slick with blood, she wielded her knife with delicate precision until at last the object pulled free.  
  
"Na'ima, flush this out, quickly."  
  
A moment later, as the remaining water poured over the area, the object floated free and Asiya caught it with her fingers. She held it up for observation and all agreed, it was the tip of an arrow.  
  
"Well." Asiya sighed. "Now that makes sense."  
  
~*~  
  
Quadamah and his warriors arrived back at his village near sunset, the pounding of the horses' hooves sounding like muffled thunder as they rode through the streets. They came to an abrupt stop in a cloud of dust and the commander dismounted, barking terse orders to his men.  
  
"Lu'ay, get the wounded inside. Then send out two patrols and four scouts, I want the perimeter under watch immediately in case of attack." Quadamah ordered and his warriors rushed to do his bidding.  
  
"What of the American?" Lu'ay asked, gesturing towards the unconscious body.  
  
The Commander didn't hesitate. "Bring him inside with the others and tell Sofian I ask for him to personally treat O'Connell."  
  
"Aiwa sayiidi."  
  
"Tamim." The commander called over another warrior, a suspicion already forming in his mind about the ambush earlier today. On the ride to the settlement of the Fourth, several of Nabil's men had told him of the enemy's knowledge and precise timing of their attacks, as if already knowing the details of the exchange.  
  
"Send out messages to all the tribes but do not use our courier. Chose whatever warriors you need but tell them of our losses. Commander Nabil has been captured and we've lost Commander Bay."  
  
"May Allah have mercy on his soul," the warrior murmured sadly and quickly left to send the messages.  
  
Quadamah walked into the main room of the building, but before he could question about the condition of some of the men, Sofian intercepted him.  
  
"You ask too much of me."  
  
Quadamah sighed. "What have I asked, healer?"  
  
The man gestured to the cot where O'Connell lay, the huge frame hanging slightly over the edges, the white fabric of his shirt stained scarlet from his wounded shoulder. "I am to treat the American?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Sofian snorted with disbelief. "He is a foreigner, the one partially responsible for raising the priest and probably responsible for the death of our warriors. How can I treat him?"  
  
Quadamah suddenly grabbed the healer's robe in clenched fists and hauled him up. "Then let me revise my order; I don't ask for your aid, I demand it. While you may have your own reasons for not treating O'Connell, the greater good would be for him to recover. He was a friend of Ardeth's and has proven his worth, to me and to those who fought earlier today." The robes were abruptly released and Sofian stumbled backwards.  
  
"Perhaps I was hasty in my judgment." The healer straightened his clothing and took a shaky breath.  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
Over the next few hours, Quadamah stayed to help the healers with the men, and personally held down O'Connell while Sofian dug out the bullet from his shoulder. Only when the American's wound had been treated and dressed, did he allow himself a reprieve and stumbled in exhaustion from the building around midnight.  
  
He walked back to his home and noted with relief the light coming from the interior. His wife, Yasmine had stayed up waiting for him and as soon as he walked over the threshold, he was enveloped into her loving embrace. The weary commander finally let the events of the day past out of his soul and into the warmth of his wife's love. It was absorbed without question, silent and compassionate until finally the warrior was taken to bed.  
  
~*~  
  
The healers had spent most of the night by the warrior's side, taking turns as they fought the infection induced fever that raged through his body. They had decided to leave him in the preparation room as a precaution with his bouts of delirium, his hands still tied in the restraints as he relived the countless nightmares in his mind. Eventually he quieted down only after getting another light dose of the pomegranate concoction laced with some laudanum but, his skin still shone with an unnatural sheen, evidence of the persistent high fever. At dusk, they moved him into one of the smaller chambers in the main building and Na'ima had agreed to take first watch for the next few hours, Is'af was to relieve her in four and Asiya's turn would be near dawn.  
  
The elder healer took advantage of the break, changing out of her soiled robes to eat and quickly bathe. She sent one Solman, one of the old sentries for the compound, to Cairo with a message for Sued and alerted the other, Ma'mun that she would be retiring for a few hours and to awake her if there were any problems.  
  
It seemed she had just laid her weary body to rest on her sleeping pallet when she heard the terrified scream of Is'af followed by a loud crash. Asiya jumped up and flew out of her room, having no regard for her present state of undress and hurried down the corridor where she met up with Ma'mun and Na'ima, who were both standing in the chamber's doorway in shock. She pushed past them, flew into the room, and pulled up short, surprised by the scene that greeted her.  
  
"Is'af, what happened?" She asked.  
  
The healer was backed up against the far wall, cornered by the partially clad warrior, who was very much awake and brandishing a small dagger with deadly accuracy. His eyes were wild and glittering with fever, his hand shaking as he spun away from Is'af to greet the new threat that suddenly appeared in his fevered brain. His raven colored hair was plastered to his hot skin and he looked savage and predatory.  
  
"He cut me with my knife," Is'af wailed, holding one hand cradled against her chest. "He just woke up and lunged at me, I tried to stop him and that's when he grabbed it."  
  
Ma'mun did what he had been trained for and raised his weapon, pulling back the hammer on the ancient pistol, aiming at the warrior and intent on protecting Is'af.  
  
"No!" Asiya cried and pulled the gun down. "Wait, listen to me. Let me try something, please."  
  
With her hands raised palms upwards, she slowly advanced on the warrior, alternating between a soft chant and a whispered plea.  
  
"Shhh, it's all right, no one will hurt you now…it's all right, we're here to help you," she said over and over, advancing a step at a time in tune with the beat of her heart. "Please give me the knife."  
  
His eyes darted nervously between Ma'mun and Asiya and he did what came instinctively, he crouched into a fighting position, forgetting his injured thigh. When it couldn't comply with his demand, still too weak for the muscles to obey, he half fell to the floor and stayed down for a moment, hands on the ground, before he could gather any strength and try once more. He fell for a second time and smacked his hand on the floor in frustration and agony, as the pain he must have felt from the still healing wound coursed through his body. He fought back the tears gathered in his eyes and tried to stand once more, only to fail.  
  
He plunged to the ground but stayed on all fours, dark head hung low, lungs heaving from the exertion, his battle hardened body for once failing at what he demanded it to do.  
  
He tried to rise but lacked the strength to move and he voiced his anguish in a long moan through clenched teeth.  
  
"It's all right, it's all right," Asiya said in an antiphonal chant as she finally reached his side and with one quick motion, grabbed the knife and flung it away from his hand. Disarmed and startled, he fell onto his side and tried to crawl away from the healer, his face showing a grief so raw Asiya felt her own tears gather in her eyes.  
  
"No, no, no," he moaned over and over again. "I have to go and save her, I tried to reach her but I couldn't do it. I must save her."  
  
"What is he saying?" Asiya heard Is'af ask and she barked out a command for everyone to leave.  
  
"I will handle this," she ordered and emphasized it with a wave of her hand. "Ma'mun, take them and get out now. If I want anyone, I will call."  
  
She stayed focused on the warrior as she heard everyone slowly leave the room, Na'ima offering to tend to Is'af's hand, and Ma'mun hesitating in the doorway before he left.  
  
"If you need me…" She heard him offer in a low voice, but she didn't dare acknowledge it. Instead, she stared at the warrior who was now curled up almost in a fetal position, moaning a name she couldn't quite catch. And swallowing hard against her own fear, she knelt down and reached out, gently touching his hot shoulder.  
  
He flinched in response.  
  
"It's all right," she whispered again and scooted closer, slowly uncurling him and pulling his unresisting body into her lap. "It's all right."  
  
"No, I needed to save her, she … needed me to come and get her and I couldn't…because of me she died," he whispered and moaned again as memories washed over him, that she could see were clearly etched in his mind and heart and would be with him until the day he died.  
  
Asiya held onto the warrior tighter, like a mother rocking a child to sleep as her hand gently smoothed back the hair from his face. She didn't know what to say, to help ease his suffering so all she could offer was the comfort and warmth of her arms.  
  
~*~  
  
Gradually he relaxed in her embrace, his face losing the savagery and tension, his body slowly unwinding as he tentatively reached up with his own arms and held onto the softness that was offered. How long had it been to have been held like this? To feel skin as soft as silk against his own, to feel the suppleness of a woman's body pressed close to his, the contrast of hard against soft. His hands crept up her arms until they gently held onto her shoulders and he pulled himself deeper into her embrace, his head almost nestled against her breasts and he couldn't help but sigh deeply.  
  
Either a reality or hallucination, he wasn't sure, he just knew he couldn't resist it and he closed his eyes, praying the nightmarish images wouldn't be there to plague him.  
  
Instead he saw a face, oval in shape with high cheekbones, delicately arched eyebrows and deep, mysterious eyes that captured him with their intensity. He saw the strong, supple hands tend to him, heal and finally hold him and he opened his eyes to gaze up at his savior.  
  
"Warrior?" asked a sensual, husky voice.  
  
"Healer," he replied in a weak and unused voice.  
  
~*~  
  
A smile tugged at Asiya's mouth and she decided, for the moment, to stay and sit with him, although it wasn't at all proper and probably violating one of the oaths she had taken as a healer. Abdul-Nasir had warned his protégée's not to become involved with patients, especially the warriors, for such flirtation with men who kill could end up costing a healer what was valued most – the ability to preserve life. She shifted her weight and tightened her arms around him and he allowed himself to completely give himself over to her, as trusting as a child. Within moments, he was fast asleep and Asiya leaned against the wall, her own fatigue finally catching up with her.  
  
They stayed that way for the remainder of the night, two halves completing a whole, the scales that weighed their hearts – together – finding a perfect balance. 


	8. Legends, greed and courage

Chap 8  
  
  
  
"Get up, swine," a hard voice ordered followed by a vicious kick to Nabil's ribs. He doubled up in pain, arms clutching his midsection as his shoulder ached in protest. "We're moving out."  
  
Slowly the Medjai tried to move but found his body stiff and unyielding from the cold night air and he moved too slowly for his enemy's liking.  
  
"I said move." Another kick to the back and Nabil grunted from the pain, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. Whatever momentum gained was abruptly stopped by a third kick to his wounded shoulder that sent the warrior crashing back down onto the sand in agony. He heard his tormentors laughing at their new sport for the day and vaguely wondered if he would live to see another sunrise.  
  
The torture stopped as quickly as it had started and Nabil peered up through blurred vision to see the leader kneeling down next to him.  
  
"Enough, Jahm wants him alive. Leave him be and mount up," the man ordered and stared at the Medjai with reluctant concern.  
  
"Can you move?" He asked.  
  
Nabil chose not to vocalize his answer but instead slowly and methodically pushed himself upright, a triumph that was marred by his swaying on his feet.  
  
The leader shook his head in amazement. "You know, I wonder about you, Medjai. You're not of the true blood, you should be considered something less, with those eyes of yours. Tell me, aren't you considered a half- breed? You must be an insult to your people."  
  
Nabil remained impassive, his gaze focused on the horizon, ignoring the cruel remarks from his captor. His silence was more effective than any physical blow and Kasim stepped back, an infuriated look on his face, the verbal attack lacking the desired effect. Suddenly with a scream of rage, the man lashed out and kicked Nabil's leg with malevolent glee, watching the warrior tumble to the ground. He leaned down and grabbed the robes, pulling upwards until their faces were inches apart, and Nabil saw his eyes were glittering with an unholy light. Several long tension filled moments passed as Nabil watched the leader struggle to contain his temper while he struggled to remain expressionless. With a snarl, the warrior was thrown back on the ground and the leader slowly stood up, dusting himself off.  
  
"I am Kasim, Second to my leader Jahm and you are my prisoner. Make no mistake, I look forward to when I can kill you." The man paused and looked back at Nabil still lying on the sand. "I've heard stories about you, Medjai. And now, I'm beginning to believe them."  
  
Minutes later, the men were mounted and riding once more towards the main camp.  
  
~*~  
  
He woke up in gradual stages of awareness, his body feeling heavy and lethargic, a dull throbbing in his shoulder that poked at him with razor sharp tenacity and made him squirm in an effort to relieve it.  
  
He tested the rest of his being, flexing and moving each limb, each extremity until he heard a noise from outside, and he immediately stopped moving.  
  
"Someone…is crying," Rick whispered and suddenly, the events of the day past came flooding back to him.  
  
The chest. Nabil. And Ardeth.  
  
"My people mourn their loss," A female voice said softly and he felt the coolness of her hand placed on his forehead.  
  
Rick's eyes fluttered open and focused on the veiled face of a young woman, leaning over him and applying a damp compress to his shoulder.  
  
A single cry of grief was joined with others as the Medjai women continued with their wails of sorrow, and O'Connell found it hard not to give into his own release as it moved through his soul, like a caged animal pacing for freedom. Instead, he swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and pushed it down, into a tight little knot of hurt and focused on something more tangible. Certainly more attainable.  
  
Revenge.  
  
"Where is Quadamah?" he asked hoarsely.  
  
"Speaking with the elders, but he will be here soon. He's been checking on you since dawn." The healer straightened up, and rinsed the compress once more in the basin she had sitting on a nearby stand. "You're still slightly feverish but Nabil was right," she said softly, and Rick caught a glimpse of sadness in her dark eyes at the mention of the missing warrior's name. "You're as strong as a bull, and you will recover quickly."  
  
"Thank you." Was all Rick could manage to say and with a small nod, the young woman left the room.  
  
"I will tell them you're awake," she quietly said as she walked out.  
  
Rick closed his eyes for a moment, the feeling of loss he had been trying to ignore almost too poignant, especially in seeing her sadness and coupled with the sounds of mourning outside. He squeezed them tighter and a lone tear slid down his face and he quickly wiped it away with the back of one hand. His chest heaved a couple of times and when the wailing reached in crescendo, he whispered his own cry of sorrow in one simple sentence.  
  
"Ardeth…..my friend."  
  
~*~  
  
An hour or so before dawn Asiya woke up and was surprised to find herself in her chambers. Memories of how she got there were hazy and she frowned in concentration, ignoring the beckoning softness of her pallet that teased her exhausted body to lie down once more and rest.  
  
The last coherent thought she had was tending to the warrior and suddenly she sat upright on the bed, filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. Something was wrong and she bolted out of her room and ran down the hallway to the other chamber. She came to an abrupt halt in the doorway and braced herself against it.  
  
On the pallet, the warrior lay unnaturally still and her fear intensified when she began to walk slowly towards him. There was no healer attending him and Asiya felt angry over the lapse in his care. She could see he was resting partially on one side, a hand hanging limply over the edge, his eyes half closed and unfocused.  
  
Trembling, she crept closer, her heart hammering wildly in her chest as she took short, rapid breaths in an effort to remain calm. Her mouth was dry and when she reached the bedside, she found it difficult to swallow past the fear lodged in her throat.  
  
His face looked so peaceful and serene and she concluded that in the past few hours since leaving him, he had passed.  
  
Tears of sorrow filled her eyes over the thought of him alone and in pain when he died and she fell to the floor on her knees and bowed her head in prayer.  
  
She felt defeated and very inexperienced, never having had a patient before and knowing this would remain as a lesson to her, in both life and death that would help mold her into being an exceptional healer. It was a necessary lesson as her mentor had instructed them on many occasions, but Asiya wasn't prepared for her feelings of inadequacy or the intensity of her sorrow over the loss.  
  
She composed herself a few minutes later, wiping her face with one hand and slowly climbed to her feet, accidentally bumping his hand.  
  
Startled, he sucked in a gulp of air, his eyes fluttered open and he rolled over, staring around the room in confusion. Asiya stepped back, amazed that he was awake and impulsively, she reached out to check him for a fever. Her hand lightly touched his forehead and she felt awkwardly shy as his dark gaze centered on her face, studying it with intense scrutiny. When she pulled her hand away, he suddenly grabbed it in a surprising burst of energy and she gasped out loud from the sudden contact.  
  
"Your…your fever has broken," she whispered.  
  
With her hand still held prisoner in his, he gently cradled it and rubbed the pad of his thumb over the sensitive palm, in small yet ever increasing circles that were distracting yet sensual. Asiya felt a blush rise up in her cheeks as she tried to free herself, but the warrior's grasp was firm yet tender. He seemed to be contemplating something as his gaze swept over the long tapered fingers and he gave a slight smile when it seemed he finally remembered.  
  
"Healer." Came the hoarse yet undeniable conclusion.  
  
"Warrior," she replied.  
  
He seemed satisfied with the answer and slowly, he let his hand fall back to his side as he shifted on the pallet.  
  
Asiya knelt by the bedside for a few moments to calm her racing heart and regain some precious composure. She glanced down at her hand, puzzled and amazed that it could still feel the warrior's burning caress from only a few moments ago.  
  
"Where…?" he asked.  
  
Asiya moved away from the bed and told him of the compound, supplying a few more answers to unasked questions to help the Medjai acclimate himself. She walked back holding a small cup of water and bent over him, her unbound hair falling like a silken ebony curtain over one shoulder.  
  
"Sip slowly," Asiya instructed and held the cup to his lips. "Tell me your name, warrior, so we may notify your family and tribe of your recovery."  
  
He shook his head. "No…family."  
  
Asiya caught the fleeting look of sorrow in his dark eyes and wondered if he had truly recovered, or if there were more wounds hidden deep within.  
  
"Then at least give me your name," she coaxed and reached out to caress his face.  
  
He seemed startled at her soft touch and Asiya quickly withdrew her hand only to have it captured again in his strong grip. Emotions as deep and as turbulent as the Nile flowed over his face finally leaving a lingering sadness as he stared at her hand once more.  
  
"My name is Ardeth," he finally whispered and caved into his desire. Slowly, he brought her hand back to his face and kept it prisoner there under his gentle command. His eyes closed, perhaps in remembrance from another time and Asiya felt this simple gesture touch her woman's heart. She whispered her name to him and heard it returned with a sigh before the warrior fell back to sleep.  
  
Asiya stayed by his side, reluctant to remove her hand even though his grip had long ago released it from its tender prison. She fell asleep long before the sun rose to greet the new day.  
  
~*~  
  
"Well?" Qutaybah leaned forward and rested his hands on the tabletop. He swallowed the knot of fear in his throat, lodged there since yesterday when he had decided to take a side trip from Giza.  
  
The chest was safely secured nearby and he let his avarice overrule good judgment. He and a few of his men had gone to a seedy little casbah located near the port and his intentions had been to sell it to the highest bidder. The problem was the few offers he had received were of little value. Now time was running out since he was overdue at Jahm's camp by one full day and he didn't want to feel the full brunt of his leader's anger without being able to appease it with a small fortune in gold coins.  
  
"Will you accept my price?"  
  
The older gentleman sitting across from him shifted uncomfortably in his chair and Qutaybah saw the signs of reluctance show on the his face.  
  
"No," he sighed and slowly stood up, gathering his hat and cane before leaving. "Sorry but the price of ten thousand is too steep for me. Perhaps you can find someone else interested in buying it."  
  
"Wait," Qutaybah called out after him. "I can accept less, I'll take five thousand."  
  
The other man never acknowledged the lower price and Qutaybah sat back, disappointed his chance for wealth was a failure. He toyed with the idea of staying longer but knew it was only prolonging the inevitable confrontation with Jahm and quickly, he signaled to his men that they were leaving.  
  
~*~  
  
"Are you saying there is nothing more you can do?" Allan Merriweather challenged. Since the day of his wife's abduction, he had stormed the office of the constable for Cairo, demanding the men responsible for her kidnapping be found and brought to justice. A task that with each passing hour, seemed more insurmountable given the lack of cooperation he felt he was receiving from city authorities.  
  
"Mr. Merriweather," Constable Harun al-Dawla started to explain yet again to the English gentleman. "As I have told you before, I am a man with limited resources. What men I can spare are investigating the skirmish at Giza and reviewing eyewitnesses."  
  
"Limited resources? Then stop with the bloody interviews and send those men after my wife."  
  
"Sending my men out into the desert after a group of…renegades is not very efficient police work. They already have at least a day's ride ahead of us, not to mention the fact the tracks are probably covered over by wind blown sand."  
  
Allan threaded his fingers through his hair in agitation. "Then what about finding those men in black? You told me one witness claimed they saw one protecting my wife."  
  
Harun hesitated, knowing very well the witness was talking about a Medjai, but explaining the ancient warrior society to the Englishman would not be practical at this point, most likely causing more concern rather than understanding. Harun knew that if a Medjai was protecting the woman, her chances of survival were significantly better since they obeyed the law of the desert.  
  
"Yes I did but so far, our attempts at finding them have come up empty- handed."  
  
"So that's all you can say…everyone is under investigation."  
  
"No, I also say you must have patience. And give me time to find those responsible…"  
  
Allan interrupted the constable with an arrogant wave of his hand. "At this rate, finding those responsible is about as likely as me being crowned Pharaoh of Egypt."  
  
Harun's eyes narrowed over the other man's tactless comment but he refrained from returning any insult. "Then I can only suggest you contact the captain at Fort Brydon. Perhaps he has some additional men who can aid in the search for your wife. Now if you have no further questions, I would like to return to my duties here. There are other matters that also need my attention."  
  
"Of course," Allan walked out of the office, his eyes snapping with anger and his mouth set in a grim line of disappointment. "Bloody hell."  
  
He stopped just outside the building and looked with disdain at the bustling crowd of people that moved through the dirty narrow streets. He had envisioned spending a few lazy weeks here in some of the local casbah's happily immersed in a few games of chance, cheerfully spending his wife's money. To keep her diverted away from his lack of attention, he had thought to send her and Midge on several tours of the pyramids and to Khan Al Khalili, called one of the biggest bazaars perhaps in the world.  
  
Now he was a prisoner, tied to his hotel room as he patiently waited for any word of her rescue. He took a deep breath and walked down the steps, immediately assaulted by determined vendors who out shouted one another in an attempt to sell their wares. Allan pasted a small smile on his face and politely declined each vendor with a firm "La, shukran" as he walked towards the hotel.  
  
His destination was the bottle of liquor he had stashed in the hotel room and considering he had just played the part of the concerned husband so well, he deserved a drink.  
  
~*~  
  
Olivia rode along side Kasim for most of the day, in what she was certain was a blatant show of ownership to his men. She had entertained teasing thoughts of escaping on horseback, but quickly pushed them aside when remembering the promise to trust her warrior. As if sensing her desire, Kasim had taken the lead rope from the horse's halter and secured it around his saddle's pommel, flashing her a knowing smile. Olivia ignored his odd humor and instead kept a silent vigil over the Medjai who was riding nearby, shaking her head in wonder at how the warrior managed to stay in the saddle despite his growing weakness. She couldn't help but speculate how much strength he had left and to her horror, by mid-afternoon she had the answer.  
  
The Medjai suddenly toppled from the horse and Olivia wanted to fling herself from the saddle after him but felt the hard restraining hand of Kasim's on one shoulder. Frantically she pulled against him as the leader barked out a harsh command for his men to check on the fallen warrior. Olivia watched as the men walked over to the prone body and nudged it with their feet, probably speculating amongst themselves that the Medjai was dead.  
  
She turned to Kasim, and tried reasoning with him. "Please let me help him. If he dies, his death will be on your hands."  
  
"His death?" the leader scoffed. "Whether he lives or dies is of no consequence to me. However, my chief wants the Medjai alive for now, to serve his purpose. Go and see if you're puny efforts can delay what may still happen in the end."  
  
Olivia didn't question Kasim's sudden generosity and dismounted. She ran over to the warrior and knelt by his side, almost gagging from the strong metallic smell of the blood that covered his robes and ran down one side, like a long scarlet ribbon. In her heart she knew she had to try everything she could to save him but in her mind, her knowledge was little defense against the very real fear that she would prove to be less than the need demanded. Olivia knelt down and ripped away more material from her tattered hemline, and gingerly pressed it against the shoulder wound, hating the low moan of agony that filtered from the warrior's lips. She watched his eyes flutter open and leaned down, one hand gently brushing away a few strands of dark colored hair from his face, an unexpected act of tenderness that surprised them both.  
  
"Should I tell…you now where…it hurts?" he murmured, a ghost of a smile hovering on his lips.  
  
"No," Olivia said softly with a bittersweet smile. "Save your strength and tell a real doctor when we get to Cairo."  
  
The warrior closed his eyes for a moment and Olivia panicked when she saw the look of resignation pass over his face. She knew that look all too well, having seen it on the face of her father when he learned of his incurable illness, and on the face of her mother after his death. It was the acceptance of one's fate, and the lack of desire to change it that bothered her; she had the same look on her face when she married Allan.  
  
"In shaa' allah …you will get to Cairo," he murmured. "I fear I may not…"  
  
"Poppycock and nonsense," Olivia scoffed. "You said your people are coming, so we'll somehow keep you alive until then."  
  
She reached up again to brush his forehead but her hand stopped when she could feel the tacky warmth of his skin. A fever brought on most likely by the untreated bullet wound. By no means a medical expert, Olivia knew the dangers of high temperatures as a body fights infection just as she knew if left untreated, it could result in death. And the warrior held the same knowledge.  
  
"Ya soghairi, listen to me…there isn't much time," he suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, until their faces were just inches apart. Olivia gasped at the close intimate contact, the feeling of her breasts crushed against his chest and under different circumstances; perhaps she would have allowed herself to give into the traitorous feelings in her heart.  
  
Kasim suddenly called out to her, and Olivia could hear a taint of jealously in his voice.  
  
"Whatever they say…you must obey without question," the warrior quickly whispered. "Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes but…"  
  
Kasim called for her again.  
  
"Do not argue, just…listen," he continued impatiently. "It will keep you alive…even when I am not there to protect you. Forgive me for I have failed you."  
  
Olivia wanted to respond but felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder and painfully pull her back away from the Medjai. Kasim's eyes were narrowed in rage, but it looked like he maintained a thin thread of control over his emotions and knelt down in the sand.  
  
"I wonder, what did this Medjai do for you to inspire such loyalty?" he asked. "For you to disobey me even after I thought the lessons were learned, I truly wish to know."  
  
"He saved my life." Olivia said quietly.  
  
Kasim gave a small bark of laughter. "And you thought to repay that kindness by saving his?"  
  
"It's the least I could do," she remarked dryly.  
  
"Then it ends here," he declared and grabbed her arm, pulling Olivia to her feet. He shoved her towards her horse. "His fate is in the hands of Allah now; there is nothing more you can do. Instead, I suggest you look towards your own future especially since your fate hangs in the balance."  
  
He barked a command and several men came over and lifted the semi-conscious warrior back onto his horse, tying his hands around the animal's neck. Olivia was also ordered to mount and once seated, Kasim walked over and laid a hand possessively on her knee.  
  
"Soon we will reach the camp, most likely by sunset. After you and the Medjai are presented to Jahm, then I will take you back to my tent," he caressed her leg, rubbing his hand suggestively up towards her thigh. "I eagerly look forward to instructing you on further lessons of obedience."  
  
Olivia hid her revulsion as best she could and met his leering gaze with one of feigned indifference. Inwardly, her fear of not being rescued came back with a vengeance and for a brief moment, she wondered what had possessed her to listen to the warrior's instructions. Time was running out and rational thought of survival became focused on fleeing, no matter the consequences of riding in the desert. Death in the Sahara was preferable to being raped by a mad man and Olivia almost gave in to her panic, wanting to kick her heels and spur her horse into a gallop. She glanced over at the warrior, her heart aching when she saw his body slumped over the horse's neck, his hands tied underneath. She accepted the grim truth; Olivia couldn't leave the warrior to his fate. A twist of fate had thrown them together for a reason and while at the moment, she couldn't possibly fathom why, the thought of his needless death was more unsettling than she cared to admit. Dim memories of Allan, her boring, steadfast and gambling husband had somehow paled in comparison to the Medjai. The warrior was mysterious, honorable and she reluctantly admitted…exciting. Scandalous thoughts for a newlywed made even more so with her sudden decision. He must have felt her gaze and he slowly raised his head, his eyes reflecting more than just regret.  
  
"Forgive me for I have failed you."  
  
Kasim gave the command to ride and when Olivia rode past the Medjai, she quickly turned her head and whispered a reply.  
  
"But I won't fail you." 


	9. Power, a heritage questioned, patience a...

Chap 9  
  
Jahm stood outside his tent, watching the sun sink down over the horizon like a giant orange ball of fire, waiting for the return of his seconds. He looked around in smug satisfaction, believing the camp was perfectly situated since it was beyond Sahara el Gharbiya and at the edge of the Great Sand Sea. He had chosen this area believing from a tactical advantage; his men were protected from any of the attacks he knew the Medjai would mount. However satisfaction was fleeting since learning two of his couriers were missing and he crumbled the message in one hand.  
  
"Soon," he whispered and touched the scar on his face in anticipation of killing his most hated foes. "The game will end."  
  
A sentry's cry caught his attention and he saw Kasim's men ride through the numerous tents until they came to Jahm's, which was conveniently situated on a tall dune overlooking the entire area. The leader waited, watching as Kasim gave the order to dismount, then had the captives pulled off their horses and brought before him, thrown unceremoniously down to the sand in submission.  
  
Jahm's cold lifeless eyes swept over the woman, lingering on her pale face, then contemptuously raked over the semi-conscious Medjai. His lips curled back in an evil parody of a smile when he saw the warrior's blood soaked robes.  
  
"I see at least one of my trusted seconds obey my commands, although I admit," he said cryptically. "I am curious why you brought me a woman?"  
  
"My chief." Kasim bowed his head subserviently. "She was taken to offset a loss." Before the leader could question, he quickly told him of the events two days past and the reasoning behind her abduction.  
  
"My men and I thought to…" Kasim hurried to finish his explanation but was backhanded across the face.  
  
"You do not think," Jahm thundered. "You obey and when you do not, punishment will be dealt accordingly. Convince me why I shouldn't reprimand you for your stupidity? Did you not think the authorities would send out patrols looking for her?"  
  
"We thought to sell her at the slave auction."  
  
"And what has changed that thinking?" Jahm asked shrewdly.  
  
"I am keeping her for my own."  
  
Jahm's mercurial emotions switched and he suddenly laughed out loud. "The needs of the body outweigh the consequences of disobedience, eh?"  
  
The men heard the woman's gasp of outrage but Kasim chose to ignore it for the moment. "Yes."  
  
Jahm thoughtfully scratched his chin. "Your honesty is refreshing, I will admit. Take the Medjai to the prisoners' tent and put the woman in another for now, until I decide their fates."  
  
"Yes my chief," Kasim reluctantly obeyed.  
  
"Be forewarned; you are accountable for her actions. If any trouble arises, I hold you responsible. Do not disappoint me." Jahm said.  
  
He dismissed his second with a wave of his hand, and then he turned and went inside his tent. He was instantly met with mocking laughter that emanated from one of the corners.  
  
"One returns but not the one you seek."  
  
"Have you nothing better to do than to spy on me, Nubian?" Jahm snapped.  
  
"Merely an observer for our employer and protecting our interests." The man stepped from the shadows, the smile slipped from his lips and was replaced by a sneer of disdain. "Where is the chest?"  
  
Jahm ignored the question and walked over to small table stationed off to the side. He picked up a water pouch and drank deeply, purposely keeping the other man waiting for his reply. He didn't have an answer at the moment and not only was this a stall tactic but he knew it would annoy his ever-present shadow.  
  
"It will be here shortly."  
  
The other man gave a small dry laugh. "The answer never changes, just the hours of the day."  
  
"I have men positioned to watch for Qutaybah. He is late but will return. You have no faith in my men?" Jahm asked and faced the other man.  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Choose your words carefully, Loch-nah…" Jahm warned and rested his hand on his sword.  
  
The Nubian moved away from the leader and paused in the tent's entrance. He smirked over the veiled threat and murmured before leaving, "As carefully as you've chosen your men, of course."  
  
~*~  
  
Aliyy crouched down and peered through a small slice in the canvas, just as he had done since his abduction several days ago. He used the opening to spy on any activity in the camp as means of gathering useful information; any advantage over the enemy to be exploited. He found out the guards were prone to talking and he learned much from eavesdropping on those conversations.  
  
"What do you see?" Wajeeh asked. He knelt down behind Aliyy and looked over his friend's shoulder, concern reflected in his eyes.  
  
"They've brought in two more captives. And one is Medjai."  
  
The two men watched the one they knew as the leader berate his second in command and order the captives to be taken away. The struggling woman was shoved into a nearby tent, the warrior hauled away by two guards and Aliyy moved away from the opening.  
  
"They are coming this way," he warned.  
  
He moved away from the canvas with his friend beside him and stood defiantly in the center of the tent. Lessons from the previous days had taught them their guards took great delight in mistreating their prisoners. Several altercations as well as escape attempts had resulted in both men being beaten but nothing diminished their determination.  
  
Freedom was the risk they would gladly take with their lives.  
  
Suddenly one tent flap was thrown open and two guards aimed their rifles at the warriors while two more dragged in a limp body. It was thrown onto the hard ground, like a piece of refuse and given no more consideration than an annoying insect. The two armed men remained tense and alert as their comrades cautiously exited the tent, the rifle sights aimed squarely on each warrior.  
  
"There's another of your kind, Medjai dogs." One of them said as the men left the tent. He gestured menacingly at Wajeeh as if to antagonize him but the warrior remained impassive. The only acknowledgement the commander gave was the promise of retribution that glittered in his dark eyes.  
  
"I doubt he live till morning," the guard taunted, shaken by Wajeeh's cold stare and quickly left.  
  
Aliyy resumed his position at the canvas but Wajeeh rushed over to the fallen warrior's side and gently turned over the body.  
  
"Who is it?" Aliyy asked.  
  
"Merciful Allah, it is Nabil," Wajeeh murmured as his hands gently sought out the wound on the commander's shoulder. He peeled back the bloody robe, frowning in confusion when a stained scrap of material fell away from the injury and tumbled to the ground.  
  
"Is he alive?"  
  
"Barely. He is weak and feverish," Wajeeh bent closer to examine the wound. He began tearing strips from his robe and wrapped them around the shoulder as Nabil's eyes fluttered open.  
  
"Wajeeh…" he confirmed in a weak voice.  
  
"Aiwa, al saaHib."  
  
"What is this place?" Nabil shifted his body on the sand and looked around the tent until he saw Aliyy still standing off to the side. Surprise flared up in his eyes in seeing the missing commander. "We had thought you were both dead."  
  
"Our keeper Jahm has tried to break our bodies as well as our spirits, but we have persevered. We live each day and fight for each tomorrow. Tell me, what has happened during our imprisonment? Did the American come for the chest?" Wajeeh asked.  
  
"I believe the chest is gone…taken two days ago at Giza. Exchange was set up for an ambush…attacked…Ardeth missing as well as the American." Nabil's temporary burst of strength started to wan quickly as he relayed the tragic events at Giza.  
  
"Ardeth missing?" Wajeeh shook his head. "He was not well when last I saw him…"  
  
"He wanted me to take…him to a healer after the chest was safely on its way to England." Nabil said softly. "Now I fear it is too…late."  
  
"Where is the chest now?" Aliyy asked.  
  
Before Nabil could answer, a sudden commotion outside captured the commander's attention and Wajeeh joined Aliyy back at the opening. Another group of men had just ridden into camp and stopped before the leader's tent. One man dismounted, gestured for something to be brought forward and knelt down on one knee in greeting before Jahm. Words were hard to distinguish from a distance but the two warriors recognized the bulky object that was brought forward with a flourish and placed on the ground next to the genuflecting man. The crowd seemed to hold their breath, waiting to see the reaction from their leader.  
  
Jahm raised his hands in the air and the group went wild, guns firing into the air as the men gave their war cries of victory. Over the jubilation no one seemed to notice when the leader pulled out his own gun and shot the man in the head. The body toppled over onto the sand and Jahm calmly walked around it, eager to see the spoils his victory had earned. He signaled for the body to be taken away and bent down, slowly pulling off the covering and examining the inscriptions on top of the chest. Satisfied, he motioned for it to be brought into his tent and walked inside, away from the celebration.  
  
"This man Jahm has no honor." Aliyy observed quietly. "He rules these men more viciously than his predecessors and has become very powerful."  
  
"With the chest, he will most likely attack the City of the Dead and raise the priest. If that happens, my brother, he will become invincible." Wajeeh said.  
  
Nabil shifted on the sand again and could barely contain the moan of pain that slid past his clenched teeth.  
  
Wajeeh looked at the younger commander with a worried frown, then leaned over and spoke to Aliyy in a low voice.  
  
"I do not know what has transpired between you and Nabil but I strongly suggest you make your peace with him soon. It will be the will of Allah if he lives through the night."  
  
Aliyy hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked over and knelt down beside the younger commander, the expression on his face unreadable. His reluctance was apparent but he shifted his body and sat down cross-legged on the sand.  
  
Finally he reached out and gently touched Nabil's shoulder. "My brother…"  
  
Nabil returned the greeting but refused to meet the other commander's gaze.  
  
"Twelve summers ago, you approached me with questions of your father. I reacted foolishly and refused your request. Your appearance startled me and invoked memories of a time I had struggled to forget and place behind me. I must ask for your forgiveness over my behavior."  
  
"There is…nothing to forgive. My father was Yusef, warrior of the Eleventh, married to Aleaha my mother. What questions I had have long been…forgotten." Nabil said.  
  
"Yusuf was a good warrior and is greatly missed by his brothers, may Allah rest his soul. Both your parents loved you as if you were flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood. But I hold the knowledge of another man, your real father and of your mother…who was my betrothed. Ask me the same question and I will gladly answer it. The time has come for you to know your heritage."  
  
Nabil's eyes closed for a moment and Aliiy feared the younger man has slipped into unconsciousness. He gently touched Nabil's arm.  
  
"Ask me once more," he quietly urged.  
  
"I ask you now of what I had asked then…do you know who my real father was?"  
  
~*~  
  
Voices. Soft, high in pitch, most likely feminine voices.  
  
He heard them as the cloud of unconsciousness lifted and awareness returned. Ardeth shifted on the pallet, automatically testing his injured leg and tensing for the subsequent pain that followed. Instead, it was a dull, almost bearable ache and he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt tired and as weak as a baby but the release from the continual agony he had dealt with since leaving England almost made him whisper a heartfelt prayer of thanks to Allah.  
  
"You can argue as much as you like, sister," a voice said. "But I shall not tend to him. Every time I do, I'm either getting stabbed or he's scaring me into a corner."  
  
A second voice responded with a laugh. "I can see you remember your recently taken oath."  
  
Suddenly Ardeth felt the soft, wet texture of a cloth on his chest, gently wiping away the sweaty residue from his fever and he felt himself relax under the almost tender ministrations. It swirled around in ever increasing circles, slow and steady until it swept up over his shoulders and back down again.  
  
The second voice spoke again. "I suggest since Asiya seems to be the only one who can make him behave and seems to like him…I nominate her to be his only care giver."  
  
A soft laugh breathed over his shoulder and he heard a moment later the voice he recognized from when he battled the demons of his mind. It was like a beacon of light, a rock of sanctuary which to hold onto and he would never forget its sensual pitch or timbre.  
  
"I suggest for the both of you to finish your chores for the day. I shall sit with the warrior for now."  
  
Ardeth heard the others leave, felt her move away and slowly opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the bright warm sunshine that poured through an open window near the end of the pallet. He saw her walking over to a stand at the other end of the room, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips beneath her robes, the long thick braid of hair that hung down her back as it swung back and forth with each step. He watched as she refilled a basin with fresh water, graceful and fluid in motion. She turned around, a soft smile lighting up her face when she saw him awake.  
  
"SabaaH il xeer" She called out a greeting and came back to sit down by the bedside.  
  
"SabaaH in nuur." Ardeth returned, his voice cracking slightly from lack of use but more from being captivated by her eyes; colored like mahogany, with light flecks of gold.  
  
"Would you like something to drink?" She asked and began to bathe him again.  
  
Ardeth's response was momentarily forgotten when she started to sponge his chest again and he closed his eyes under the tender cleansing. They popped open a moment later when he caught the distinctive whiff of the familiar fragrance of jasmine.  
  
"Do I smell that bad that I need to be perfumed like a woman?" Ardeth asked.  
  
"Aiwa." Her answer was honest and direct. Ardeth watched her cheeks redden with embarrassment probably over her rudeness and she hastened to apologize.  
  
"Please forgive me, I meant no disrespect…"  
  
"There is no need, I was beginning to hate the smell of myself as well." He chuckled.  
  
"From our lessons, the ancient mentors list the numerous healing qualities of jasmine in the medical papiri, and I thought to apply that knowledge here." The healer couldn't help but return his smile but it quickly faded when she noticed the small pink scar almost centered on his chest.  
  
"Is this a recent wound?" She asked, the cloth skimming over it as if it could be removed by touch alone.  
  
"Aiwa."  
  
"Who could have done such a thing to you?" She asked innocently.  
  
"A threat that is no longer alive."  
  
The almost cold, clipped reply seemed to have startled her and Ardeth regretted saying it, for in doing so it tainted the light hearted moment they had shared earlier. It was a reminder of who he was and his station in the Medjai society; of the hold he had over life and death, a control most likely inconceivable to a healer.  
  
She quickly cleaned up the bath, briskly rubbing his chest with another cloth, unable to meet his gaze. She started to climb to her feet but he reached out and grasped her hand, making her stay by his side.  
  
"Yamahi," Ardeth whispered.  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise over the use of the endearment. "Aiwa?" she whispered back.  
  
"Now it is I who must ask for your forgiveness. And offer my gratitude in saving my life." He saw her hesitation, then a brief glimpse of acceptance in her eyes and she sat down again, shyly staring at her hands. He could sense her awkwardness but saw her resolve strengthen with the magnitude of her accomplishment.  
  
"I accept although I must admit, you are my first patient." she confided.  
  
"Then truly have I been blessed by Allah, to be delivered into the hands of one so capable in caring for me."  
  
Asiya blushed over his murmured praise but couldn't help to blurt out her next question, seemingly regardless of the consequences.  
  
"Have you killed many, warrior? I mean does your tribe guard the City of the Dead? We've all heard the stories from our fathers, and grandfathers."  
  
Ardeth sighed, knowing there was no mild way to answer. "My tribe is the Eighth and we are guardians for Hamunaptra, but I will say no more. The tales of killing are not for your gentle ears, ya sitti."  
  
"I see," she replied and he could imagine the visions she had of him fighting, bloodied and savage, that may have come to mind. His assumption was correct when he caught the look of sorrow in her eyes and he hastened to make whatever amends possible.  
  
"Healer, what is wrong?" he asked, using the familiar pattern they had established to ease her distress. Ardeth suddenly felt tired, a sweeping wave of weakness that washed over him and he leaned his head back against the pillow.  
  
"Warrior," she replied. "You take life when you need to in protection of Hamunaptra and of the Hom-dai; I have vowed to preserve life. I have just realized we are two opposites from one another."  
  
Ardeth felt the intense need for sleep, however, he fought it long enough to give a whispered a reply that Asiya had to lean over to hear.  
  
"Then in the balance of life and of the heart, perhaps we counter balance each other?" A moment later his eyes closed and he drifted back to sleep.  
  
In the deep recesses of his mind, his subconscious heard her reply and for the moment it was enough.  
  
"Aiwa, warrior; we do."  
  
~*~  
  
Patience.  
  
It was a virtue he never thought he really had an abundance of, but found over the past two days, it was enough to sustain him while his body recuperated. It kept him still while the healer Rahimah continued applying healing poultices on his shoulder, or when Quadamah visited him and questioned about the events at Giza. It kept him from making a rash decision and leaving the village when he was still too weak, intent on hunting down those responsible and extracting some kind of satisfaction. Anything to appease the aching burden in his heart from the loss of Ardeth.  
  
As limitless as his patience seemed, Rick was still restless and the previous night, he slowly climbed off the pallet and tested his body, stretching and pulling muscles lax from use until he collapsed covered in sweat. A minor setback and that morning, just as the sun was rising over the horizon, Rick stood up and tried stretching again.  
  
He pulled his pants on then stood by the side of the bed, feet firmly planted in a wide stance, his arms out to the sides as he slowly rotated them in small circles. Biceps expanded then lengthened when he held them out straight, gently testing his range of motion. He brought his arms back in again, close to his sides positioned like a prize fighter and gradually brought up his weak arm, fist closed. He jabbed into the air, grimacing when the first twinges of pain blossomed into a burning sensation throughout his shoulder. Rick ignored the pain as dots of perspiration beaded on his face, over the broad plains of his chest, around the golden nipples and slid down his defined abdomen in tiny rivulets. The muscles rippled over his torso, tanned skin gleaming with a light sheen of perspiration as he continued to exercise. He slowed down his movement, not wanting to push himself too far but needing to prepare himself so he could leave in the next day or so. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he remembered always telling Evy he believed in being prepared.  
  
He switched exercises and rotated his shoulder, the burning sensation increasing as the ligaments extended and their weakness made his arm shake.  
  
"Commander Nabil may have talked about your ability to recover quickly," a feminine voice spoke up from behind him. "But he never mentioned your stubbornness in not following a healer's advice."  
  
Rick swung around and smiled at Rahimah, a boyish grin creasing his face at being caught exercising. "No one said I couldn't move…"  
  
"Would that have mattered?" She walked in carrying a small tray and sat it on a stand near the pallet, motioning for him to sit down.  
  
"No," Rick said. He flexed his shoulder once more, then plopped down on the pallet with a small sigh, hating the weakness that occasionally swept over his still healing body.  
  
"Somehow, I thought not," Rahimah laughed and began unwinding the bandage from his shoulder.  
  
"Have you heard anything about Nabil?"  
  
"No," Rahimah sighed. She kept her eyes averted but Rick could still sense her sadness. He had astutely guessed the young woman cared for the warrior, but refused to admit to anything. Instead she chose to focus on the task at present, the shaking of her hands the only indication of her inner turmoil. "The commander is waiting for the return of his warriors, dispatched the first day you arrived. Perhaps they will bring news."  
  
"Where is Quadamah?" Rick asked, as he had always asked since regaining consciousness. The commander's last visit was yesterday afternoon, but it was brief and he chose not to answer any of O'Connell's questions regarding the attack. He explained that all the Medjai Elders were meeting with the commanders and there was a rumor of war. Quadamah had promised another visit today and Rick was anxiously waiting any further news.  
  
"I've been with Elders since dawn." Quadamah suddenly spoke up from the doorway.  
  
"Can you tell me what's going on or am I not privileged to know?" Rick asked and nodded his thanks to the healer when she was done wrapping his shoulder.  
  
The commander sat down in a nearby chair and rubbed a hand over his weary face.  
  
He seemed indecisive for a moment, as if debating on how much to relay but in the end, he looked liked he reached the conclusion that O'Connell needed to be told.  
  
"Rahimah, would you please excuse us?" He asked and waited until the healer had left the room before turning back to the American.  
  
"It's been determined for you to return to England. The chest is no longer your responsibility and the Medjai will retrieve it from our enemies' hands. We appreciate your help and are thankful for your friendship with Ardeth but this matter is no longer your concern."  
  
Rick shook his head, certain he hadn't heard correctly. "Excuse me, you're sending me home?"  
  
"Yes, it would be best…"  
  
"Whoa, wait a second. Hold on and let me get this straight. You use Ardeth in getting me to come over and act as an errand boy; I get shot and lose my best friend all in one day and all you can come up with is it's 'no longer my concern'?"  
  
"O'Connell…" Quadamah tried to explain.  
  
"Well I got news for you, pal, I'm involved whether you and the Medjai like it or not. I got mixed up with this way before now, but never really wanted to act on anything out of respect for Ardeth. He's gone now and suddenly, I'm dismissed as if my usefulness is no longer of value."  
  
"The Elders thought it best for you to return home, out of respect and deference of your new family."  
  
Rick got up and started pacing. "So tell me, your Elders make the rules?"  
  
"No," Quadamah shook his head. "They are advisors; we seek their counsel and use their knowledge and experiences from when they were warriors. All of the commanders enforce our oath as well as the laws of my people."  
  
"I hear you talk about the Elder's decision but you haven't said anything about your own. Tell me, did you agree to this?"  
  
The commander looked away from Rick's intent gaze for a moment. "No, I did not."  
  
"Did any of the other commanders?"  
  
Quadamah looked back at Rick. "Would that matter to know?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It was the Elders decision." He said quietly.  
  
Rick stopped pacing and sat down on the pallet, facing the warrior. "Sounds to me the Elders have more authority than you care to admit but," he raised a hand to intercept any argument from the commander, "that's not the issue here. I can't change what the Elders decided, but since I'm not a Medjai, I guess I don't really have to obey, do I? What I can do is help and that's what I'm offering you. Help in finding those responsible for not only Ardeth but for the chest and the loss of your two other commanders. It's up to you on how you want to receive my help."  
  
"What do you mean?" Quadamah asked.  
  
"I'm a simple man. I don't have a lot, but what I do have I protect as best I can; my wife and son, brother-in-law and friend. Ardeth was more than a friend…hell he was like my brother. You should understand that since your people talk of brotherhood and of honoring your vows. Don't tell me this doesn't involve me anymore, it's too late for that. Just tell me what you and your people are going to do about getting the chest back. Either way, I ride out with you or behind you, it doesn't make a difference to me."  
  
"Even if it means war?"  
  
"Yes." Rick said.  
  
"Be careful of what you agree to, my friend. And let us hope you do this out of respect and honor in Ardeth's memory, rather than revenge. War is never an easy alternative and one my people would like to avoid at all costs." Quadamah rose up from the chair and walked over to the door, turning back to O'Connell. "But I should also tell you, even now as we speak, my fellow commanders petition the Elders to give the decree."  
  
"You let me know and I'll be ready."  
  
Quadamah nodded his head. "Of that I have no doubt. I'll be back shortly after speaking to the commanders, there are a few things we still need to discuss."  
  
"Wait," Rick called out. "I've been wondering, why did you come to Giza that day? I thought only Ardeth and Nabil were supposed to help with the exchange."  
  
"The priest's chest is a temptation too overwhelming to ignore. Like dangling gold in front of a thief, my instincts warned me that our enemy might not have passed up such an opportunity. My only regret is that I didn't listen to my instincts sooner." Quadamah replied.  
  
After the warrior left, Rick walked over to where his belongings were stored with his guns and holsters. He stared down at his shirt, thoughtfully touching where someone had repaired the bullet hole and had done a fair job of removing the bloodstains. For a moment, he wondered if he had made the right decision in offering his help to Quadamah since the outcome of war wasn't what he had expected.  
  
He closed his eyes and thought of Evy, Alex and of course Jonathan. They were his family now and as he told the commander, he would do whatever he could to protect them. The threat of resurrecting the priest was becoming more tangible with the chest still missing and helping the Medjai retrieve it seemed the logical choice.  
  
He had already lost one person he considered family, he didn't intend to lose any more.  
  
Author's note: sorry for the delay in submitting this, I came down with a case of writer's block and am still battling it like a Medjai. I hope this chapter as well as the following one's still have the same level of writing you've come to expect from me and trust me when I say, I'm doing my best to give it too you. Thank you for your patience. 


	10. Truth, strength and acceptance

Chapter 10  
  
For the first few hours of her imprisonment, Olivia paced around the small interior of the tent; her mind thinking of ways to escape. Rational thoughts congealed into panic, overriding common sense and she had to resist the urge to run out of the tent and flee into the night. Her emotions were stretched beyond their limits and her agitation was compounded with her need to rescue the warrior. Time was a new adversary as it passed by, each precious minute of life for him slipping away as quickly as each life-sustaining drop of his blood that still flowed from his wound.  
  
Her guard, a young boy barely into manhood, kept a wary eye on his charge during the night. She watched him bring in food and a blanket, sensing his unwillingness in completing his duties. She noted his limping gait and vaguely wondered what could have caused his deformity but the chance to ask him never presented itself. He would avert his eyes from her and quickly leave the tent. Olivia was too emotionally numb to think beyond her primary concerns to question his behavior and resumed pacing.  
  
When thirst finally compelled her to reach for the water pouch, her eyes widened in shock at the sight of her hands. In morbid fascination, she stared at the red stained appendages, intrigued at how the blood was even caught underneath her fingernails. She tried wiping them off with her skirt but gave up when she saw the remains of her clothing - torn, dirty and covered with gore. She rubbed her hands over the material, frantically trying to wipe them clean.  
  
Olivia fell to her knees and grabbed the pouch, pouring as much water over them as possible, scrubbing them against her thighs. Tiny whimpers of despair escaped from her throat as her mind relived Midge's death. The horrid feeling of warm blood spraying onto her face and neck made Olivia scrape even harder, as if by touch alone she could erase this memory that would remain with her for the rest of her life. Suddenly her gaze caught the dim glitter of her wedding ring and she held up her left hand, staring at the diamond and gold rings coated in the tacky red substance. She twisted her hand over and wiped it against her thigh, memories now twisting into caring for the warrior. The strong smell of blood, the tacky feel of it over his robes...dear God, there had been so much blood.  
  
Her whimpers turned into sobs and tears spilled down her face. Olivia collapsed onto her side, arms wrapped around her as she gave into her sorrow. She mourned the passing of a beautiful, vibrant young woman. In the short time they had known each other, Olivia had grown so very fond of Midge and they became more than just friends; they had been like sisters. The station in life of which they lived, employer and maid, mattered not to them for their friendship had transcended those boundaries.  
  
Olivia held up her hand again, staring at the rings and thought sadly that some things could be made pure and clean again with a simple wipe of a cloth. No amount of wiping could repair the damage already done in her marriage to Allan. It had been a mistake; she had never been in love with him, just the idea of being married. Their courtship had taken place over a year, of stolen kisses that left her feeling empty, forbidden touches that held no spark of passion or desire. Allan had always been charming and polite, flashing a brilliant smile and boyish charm that won over her mother, aunts and cousins in a matter of a few moments. The men admired his sharp business sense and shrewd investment strategies. No one seemed to want to mention Allan's only vice - a weakness to gamble. It was theorized that once he settled down the right woman and married her, his desire to continue with the games of chance would disappear.  
  
Olivia gave a small, sad laugh. The only thing that seemed to disappear was the weekly allowance she gave to her husband, since he always spent it quickly and would ask for more.  
  
Admitting the truth to one's self was never easy but as Olivia lay on the ground she thought about her future. In the past few days, she had shown an inner strength she had never thought she possessed. She had managed to survive in a harsh and brutal climate, matching wits with her abductor whose intention was to keep her. She had lost a friend and now acknowledged the fact her marriage that was over. It was time to stand on her own, away from the protective shelter of her well-meaning family. She dreaded the upcoming confrontation with Allan but it needed to be done. Like the wedding rings, a simple cleansing wipe wouldn't repair that damage already done. She needed to do this before she lost all sense of her newly discovered self. Nothing would please Allan more if she reverted back to what perhaps he thought he had married - a pretty porcelain doll. He wanted her to be kept on a shelf, admired for her beauty but not her substance.  
  
Olivia stayed huddled on the ground for the remainder of the night, hugging her knees tightly as she reflected on her life. Towards dawn, she thought about the warrior and despaired when she still had no idea of how to help him. The answer came in the most unlikely form of her guard when he shuffled into the tent.  
  
The boy's dark head was down and he limped over to the cold, untouched food. He stopped in surprise and finally looked up at Olivia.  
  
"You must eat," he said. "You need your strength."  
  
Olivia's first inclination was to refuse but she realized he was right; eating would help her remain strong if she were to survive the next few days.  
  
"Of course," she agreed.  
  
He brought over the bowls then surprised her by sitting down in front of her, apparently wanting to make sure his prisoner ate.  
  
"You were brought in with the Medjai," he said.  
  
"Yes, I was." Olivia broke off a piece of bread and handed it to him. She had no idea why she had done that perhaps compassion had prompted her to do so. The boy was very thin, dressed in large, ill fitting and ragged clothing. He hesitated for a brief moment before accepting the offering. Olivia watched him stuff the food in his mouth as if he were ravenous while he kept his eyes averted. She looked closer at his appearance, finding bruises around his forearms, face and neck. Someone had beaten the boy, perhaps ingraining the submissive manners in which he now displayed. On impulse, she reached out wanting to brush some dirt off his face but he jerked away from her hand. Olivia let it drop to her lap and waited until he could try and trust her again.  
  
"The guards say he will soon die," he said around a mouthful of food.  
  
"Oh God...it's too late," Olivia whispered as her heart constricted with panic. She pushed the rest of the bowls towards him and sat back, suddenly losing her appetite.  
  
He blinked in surprise at her gesture but refused to eat.  
  
"We...could help him," he suggested and glanced up, waiting for her reaction.  
  
"Help him? How?" Olivia asked.  
  
"I must first speak to the warriors and let them know of my plan. If they agree, we must leave as soon as possible, preferably tonight."  
  
"Why would you consider this?" Olivia asked in confusion. "Aren't you loyal to your leader?"  
  
The boy let out a sudden bark of laughter. "I was never part of Jahm's army. They promised to make me a fighter but instead, because of my leg, I am forced to do menial tasks. They treat me no better than a slave."  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
"I am Faris, once of the Tuareg. When they captured the first commander, I felt a sense of foreboding. I was never aware that our enemy was the Medjai and I did not wish to be a part of any attacks against them. My people and the Medjai have been enemies for over two thousand years and there is no honor in letting a warrior needlessly suffer. It is my hope that in helping him, perhaps their Elders would consider me joining one of the helper sects."  
  
Olivia felt the first tiny spark of hope flair up in her heart. Yet she still had her suspicions.  
  
"Why would you help me?"  
  
Faris climbed to his feet and limped to the entrance of the tent. He looked back at Olivia, his face conveying a sorrow and wisdom that made him look far older than his actual age.  
  
"We all carry our own personal chains of bondage, whether it be of sorrow or happiness. I did not wish for you know the physical aspect of them as well."  
  
~*~  
  
"His condition has become worse," Wajeeh sighed and closed the robes over Nabil's shoulder. "The wound has stopped bleeding but the fever is getting higher."  
  
Aliyy held Nabil's head cradled in his lap, having sat with him through the night, offering what comfort he could while he helplessly watched the life slowly ebb out of him. Nabil drifted in and out of consciousness, moaning in his delirium, as hallucinations possessed his mind. There had been times when it took both commanders to hold him down as he thrashed about, his movements growing weaker as the hours passed.  
  
Aliyy ran a weary hand over his face, swallowing against the anger in seeing Nabil's suffering.  
  
"There is nothing more to be done," Wajeeh confirmed the obvious and placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Perhaps if you were to tell me of his father..."  
  
Aliyy found a tentative smile. "You wish to hear of Nabil's heritage?"  
  
"Aiwa, the boy has always intrigued me. In the past, Nabil has acted with a level of honor and dignity that sometimes surpasses the most seasoned of warriors. It was not a surprise he was promoted to commander at such a young age, a feat accomplished only by one other. Ardeth."  
  
"I believe part of the credit may lie in his childhood." Aliyy determined quietly. "I heard stories from his youth...children can be cruel."  
  
"The honesty of a child is...not often compromised. It can often be as sharp as the edge...of a scimitar."  
  
"You are awake..." Aliyy said in surprise and looked down at Nabil.  
  
"For now..." Nabil moaned from a sudden spasm of pain. "Please, I wish to hear more about my father."  
  
Aliyy sighed. "I am not sure where to begin. Instead I choose to talk about your mother first. Once I do, you will understand why I bring this memory up first. Her name was Mirah and she was sister to Dharr, Honored Helper of the Seventh and my betrothed. How shall I describe her to you? She was a gentle as a dove, as beautiful as the moon in a cloudless night sky and had warmth that surely burned brightly from the goodness in her soul. She was my heart and we loved each other very deeply. We were to be married in the month following the flooding of the Nile, when our land was at its richest and most fertile from the life giving waters. When the time came prior to the ceremony, she petitioned the Elders to give her a small escort so she could travel to Cairo and visit with Dharr, then bring him back to the settlement. A day outside the city, they found a man that had been left out in the desert to die. He had been beaten and robbed. She took pity on the foreigner and brought  
him to Dharr's home, where she nursed him back to health. When he was strong enough to repay her kindness..."  
  
"Go on..." Nabil softly urged when Aliyy suddenly broke off his narration.  
  
A muscle twitched in Aliyy's cheek as he strived to maintain control over his emotions, surprised how deeply the wound to his heart still ached.  
  
"One night, when he knew they were alone, he seized the chance and used my Mirah the way a man uses an unwilling woman. He left the next morning, never to be seen or heard from again. We had always assumed he returned to his homeland. Mirah returned back to the settlement a few days later and struggled to hide her shame in the weeks that followed as best she could. She rejected my proposal and refused to see me, avoiding me and repeated requests to speak with her. One day I found she was leaving the settlement to go live with Dharr in Cairo. I confronted her that night and she finally broke down, unable to lie any further. She revealed she was with child and the Elders had suggested she live elsewhere for the remaining months of her pregnancy," Aliyy said.  
  
"I was born in Cairo, not in the settlement of the Seventh?" Nabil asked.  
  
"Aiwa. When she left, I refused to speak to her, wounding her more efficiently with my silence than a blow from my scimitar ever could. I was angry and frustrated, wanting to extract my revenge on a man that was no longer within my grasp. In the months that followed, I refused to speak her name and the Elders had it removed from all records. One night, she went into early labor and you were born. I am told she died a few hours later from severe blood loss, never seeing you or being able to hold you in her arms. Dharr took you out that night with every intention of leaving you on the steps of an orphanage for he had no desire to care for a baby. For reasons unknown, he took you back to the settlement, presented you to the Elders and demanded they make a decision if you should live or die. It mattered not to him as long as he did not have to look upon you. The Elders displayed their compassion in the decision that Yusuf and Aleaha would be your foster parents and you were  
adopted the next day."  
  
"I have a khal?" Nabil asked, his face schooled into stoic indifference but Aliyy saw the hope flare up within the depths of his eyes.  
  
"La, Dharr died a few years later."  
  
"You knew the truth of my...father and mother. Is that why you protested Yusef's petition for my presentation into the warrior sect?"  
  
Aliyy could not meet the accusing gaze of the younger warrior. "I resented you because you were alive, yet what I had held most dear to me was taken away. I protested the petition along with a few other warriors, for we all believed in since you were not of the true blood..."  
  
"I would not produce true heirs, thus weakening the Medjai blood lines," Nabil finished.  
  
"Aiwa," Aliyy confirmed.  
  
The young commander's face never altered in its appearance but Aliyy detected the sorrow deep within his eyes. Nabil shifted on the sand and Aliyy immediately compensated for the change, as if keeping the warrior comfortable could somehow ease the torment of his heart.  
  
"I am Medjai, Commander of the Fifth. I thought to have proven myself in my thoughts, deeds, and in battle..." his voice broke from emotion. "Yet what I seek the most to gain is approval from my peers. Strange that the color of my eyes or ...question of my heritage should seem more important."  
  
"You have been greatly wronged. If you were blood of my blood, I would have been honored to call you my son."  
  
"Speak his name..." Nabil ordered weakly.  
  
"Be of good heart, al sahib," Wajeeh advised.  
  
"I will try," Nabil answered softly. "But revenge for my mother, for myself...it governs almost every rational thought."  
  
His hands are shaking from anger and they clench into tight fists at his side. "Speak it..."  
  
"His name was Lord Derek E Mallory, brother to the Captain at Fort Brydon."  
  
Aliyy and Wajeeh watched Nabil carefully for his reaction.  
  
"My khal is alive and lives in Cairo?" His composure seemed to weaken but his question was spoken in a deceptively firm voice.  
  
"Aiwa," Aliyy said.  
  
"It is your right to challenge him for the honor of your mother," Wajeeh suggested.  
  
Nabil closed his eyes and Aliyy could only guess to the emotions the warrior must have been feeling. Years ago, his own rage against the Englishman had tried to dictate a more aggressive course of action against the Captain, but he had listened to the wise counsel of his friends.  
  
"I have no...reason to challenge this man," Nabil murmured weakly. "He is innocent of what transpired just as I am. I have sought the knowledge of my heritage, curiosity appeased. I embrace it with neither joy nor malice but accept it on the most basic of terms. It simply is..."  
  
Aliyy and Wajeeh accepted Nabil's wise decision and all three men fell silent, recognizing events of the past predetermined the course of the future.  
  
A sudden commotion outside the tent captured Wajeeh's attention and he quickly moved over towards the opening.  
  
"Someone has approached the guards," he called out softly.  
  
Aliyy waited impatiently. "Are they coming in?"  
  
Wajeeh backed away from the opening and stood directly in front of the two commanders. His stance was rigid and alert, as if prepared for confrontation, his fists clenched by his sides. A moment later the tent flap flew open and a thin, young boy hobbled into the interior. Wajeeh took a step forward, his eyes glittering with an unspoken challenge and the boy immediately cowered.  
  
"Assalamu alaikum, Medjai. I mean no harm," he quickly said. "Instead I bring news."  
  
Wajeeh openly scoffed at the announcement but Aliyy spoke up from behind him.  
  
"What news could a Tuareg bring us in our enemies camp?"  
  
"May I enter?" he asked. "Words of which I need to speak need not be heard by unwelcome parties."  
  
He silently gestured towards the guards outside and waited.  
  
"Stand down," Aliyy called to Wajeeh. "Let us hear what this youth has to say."  
  
Wajeeh backed off to one side, allowing the boy to pass along side of him, then followed him over as he sat down on the ground near Aliyy. He sat down next to the youth, intentionally crowding him to intimidate, but the boy didn't move. Wajeeh saw him glance down at the now unconscious Nabil.  
  
"Does he still live?"  
  
"For the moment yes. Explain your presence here," Wajeeh ordered.  
  
"It is time to plan for an escape."  
  
Aliyy shook his head. "You speak of what we have already attempted for the past few days and failed."  
  
"A few days ago the guards were more alert and eager to obey Jahm. Now, there is unrest and speculation, the guards are less attentive. Rumors say Jahm has gone mad. He has sequestered himself in his tent, refusing to leave the chest unattended, reading the ancient symbols as he mutters to himself. More messengers are missing and Loch-nah impatiently awaits for his master to arrive from Cairo before he will act."  
  
"What of Jahm's second, Kasim?" asked Wajeeh.  
  
"He tries to maintain control over the men, sending out additional patrols to look for the missing messengers but he fears your people are gathering their forces for an attack. Like a rat, he scurries back to the safety of the camp having no wish to be caught out in the open for when the assault comes. The time has come for you to escape, Medjai. I will lead you and your injured brother to freedom, but it must be tonight. If you wait any longer, he will die."  
  
*Author's note: I cannot express how much I appreciate the reviews and emails from you all. They are often inspirational. Do I still have writer's block you ask? Ardeth and I say together: we think not. LOL 


	11. Healing the heart and progress

Chapter 11  
  
Strength.  
  
A quality Ardeth had always taken for granted; a part of what made up the warrior. It was valued, respected and needed. He had relied on his strength for almost all of his adult life, since his initiation into the warrior sect and taking the oath. Personal strength was always being tested and forged stronger through experiences. Physical strength was the matter of keeping his body healthy and toned.   
  
He foolishly thought to test the limits to his physical strength when he woke up mid morning and tried to climb off the pallet. The simple movement of pivoting his body around so his legs hung over the side left him tired and shaking. He sat for a few minutes, waiting until the weakness diminished and slowly pushed himself upright, gingerly testing how much weight his leg could endure. The sense of triumph he felt when he stood was fleeting and he fell to the floor in exhaustion.  
  
"What in the name of..." A voice exclaimed from the doorway. Na'ima found Ardeth lying partially on his side and rushed over to help. She placed her arms underneath him and with a surprising amount of strength, helped Ardeth back up to the pallet.  
  
"What are you doing?" Na'ima asked. She gently checked his bandaged thigh and adjusted the covers around his waist. "You need to rest, your body is still not fully recovered."  
  
"I needed to move..." Ardeth tried to explain.  
  
"You must rest. Give your body time to recover from its ordeal." Na'ima ordered and walked to the doorway. "If you find you have to move again, please call for one of us and we will come help."  
  
"I would like to move now," Ardeth muttered. He leaned back against the pillow and decided to give himself a brief respite.  
  
Several minutes later, he tried to stand once more. He wasn't used to long periods of inactivity and he craved something, anything to capture his attention and divert it away from his growing restlessness and boredom. He attributed it to the uncertainty of knowing the location of the chest, his recollection of the exchange unclear and murky. Fragments of memory teased him with the uncertain fates of Nabil and O'Connell, acting as a catalyst and goading him into taking a foolish risk in walking too soon.  
  
The second attempt was far more successful and he managed to hobble over to the doorway. Suddenly Is'af came around the corner, carrying a small tray of bandages, a basin of water and a few other items. She came to a standstill, her mouth dropping open in shock as she stared at Ardeth. Her eyes drifted down to the remains of his pants, dangling in tattered ribbons around his muscled thighs and leaving nothing else about his anatomy to the imagination.  
  
"Oh...my..." she breathed. The tray wobbled precariously in her hands. "Stay right there, you need pants! I'll get you pants!" Is'af ran out of the room before Ardeth could respond.  
  
He managed to take a few more steps before Is'af came rushing back and like Na'ima, pulled his arm over her shoulder and guided the warrior back to his pallet. With brisk and efficient movements, she slipped on the pants and covered him again within a matter of a few minutes, her bright red cheeks the only indication of her embarrassment. Is'af hurried out of the room before the warrior could call out his thanks.  
  
Ardeth dozed for a brief period of time, and woke up past the noon hour. He was hungry and the restlessness returned stronger than before, compelling him to move. Success was measured not in quantity but by small steps. He mentally counted each one as he walked away from the pallet and towards the doorway. His body glistened with sweat from his exertions, trembling as he hopped along the wall, one hand leaning against it for as much support as possible. When he stood on the threshold, his leg suddenly gave in and he collapsed to the floor. Ardeth fell to his side and lay there, hating the extensive weakness that left him so drained. Slowly, he crawled over to one side of the doorway and leaned against it, extending out his injured leg and rubbing the burning sensation in the thigh muscles. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, willing himself to relax.  
  
He felt the sudden sensation of additional hands touching his thigh and Ardeth's eyes opened to find Asiya kneeling next to him. She was massaging the stiff muscles and tendons around the wound, in a slow, steady rhythm that made Ardeth give a heartfelt sigh of relief. His gaze swept over the healer, appreciating the dark mantle of hair pulled back into a braid, small tendrils escaping from its confines and framing her jaw line and the column of her neck. Her eyes were lowered, the long lashes almost resting against her cheeks as she concentrated on her task, a slight frown marring her features as she continued the message. Ardeth felt an unexpected surge of happiness in seeing her by his side. It quickly dissipated by momentary feelings of guilt for not remembering his wife. He reached down and seized one hand in a weak attempt to stop Asiya's treatment.  
  
"Do not...I am all right," he said gruffly.  
  
"You should be resting," she reprimanded and pulled her hand free to resume its task.  
  
"So I have been told," Ardeth replied.  
  
"You should not be trying to walk, instead you should give your body a chance to heal. It has been through an..."  
  
"Ordeal," Ardeth supplied, a small smile tugging one corner of his mouth, "I am well aware of this fact. Na'ima informed me earlier."  
  
"You startled Is'af, you know," she chuckled softly.  
  
"I did not mean to frighten her yet it is all I seem capable of doing..." Ardeth smiled ruefully.  
  
"I would not worry, for her first patient you're a good lesson to be learned. At least you're wearing pants." Asiya pointed out the obvious.  
  
"Is'af can be quite...commanding."  
  
"You appear to be quite stubborn," she said with a gentle smile.  
  
Ardeth remained silent for a moment, as Asiya's hands switched positions on his leg. She placed one under his calf and the other under his thigh and gently, began stretching it. Pulling it out as if he were walking, then pushing until his knee came up, as if running. It was slow and steady, Ardeth grimacing occasionally from pain. Her head was down slightly and she seemed to be concentrating on how well the leg moved and the level of discomfort of her patient.  
  
A memory flashed through his mind of the many times Janan had tended to his wounds. The relief he felt was now mingled with the bittersweet sorrow of his memories.  
  
"My wife would tell me the same thing," he murmured quietly.  
  
Asiya asked for her name and Ardeth answered with a sigh.  
  
"I believe you may have dreamt of her when you were ill," she said.  
  
Ardeth nodded his head but remained silent, allowing memories from his nightmares chase away what relief his heart had felt moments ago.  
  
"May I ask what happened?"  
  
A simple question that surprised the warrior for a moment and he gazed into Asiya's warm compassionate eyes. He hadn't thought to tell the sad story but once he began, it spilled from his lips, as the attentive healer seemed captivated by the events of his past. Ardeth left nothing out, his heart opening up and pouring forth every memory, from the earlier happier times when he was newly married up to the day when Janan was killed. It was a cleansing, an emotional torrent contained for so long that welled up in his soul and flowed out, leaving his inner wounds raw and open again. His voice faltered when he relived his wife and child's death, and he closed his eyes against the haunting images. Ardeth whispered his shame; of his failure in protecting his loved ones and that knowledge tormented him unceasingly.  
  
"I am so sorry for your loss. You loved her very much," Asiya said. She placed her hand in his and Ardeth held onto it, absorbing the touch as if it alone could ease his sorrow.  
  
"Almost more than life itself," Ardeth replied hoarsely, swallowing against the grief lodged in this throat. He composed himself moments later and finished his narration ending with the challenge issued by Adham and the rescue of O'Connell.  
  
"Months after her death, I approached her family and asked for their forgiveness, of which they gladly gave."  
  
Asiya stopped flexing his leg and gently laid it back on the floor, carefully checking under the bandage for any seepage from the wound. She leaned back and considered her next question carefully.  
  
"But have you forgiven yourself?" she asked.  
  
"What do you mean?" Ardeth frowned at the bold question.  
  
Asiya sighed and glanced down at her hands folded in her lap, hesitant with her reply.  
  
Ardeth reached out and cupped her chin, gently pulling her face up. "Tell me, yamahi," he ordered softly.  
  
~*~  
  
Tamim arrived in his settlement around noon, riding into the main square as another horse trailed behind him with a prisoner. He came to an abrupt stop in the main square and was immediately greeted by a few of his fellow warriors.  
  
"Where is Quadamah?" he asked and dragged the other man off the horse.  
  
"He has been with the Elders for most of the morning with the American," One warrior replied.  
  
"Take this man in for questioning. I shall be there shortly," Tamim asked and walked towards the counsel building.  
  
~*~  
  
O'Connell certainly felt like the odd man out.  
  
He had spent most of the morning with Quadamah in the emergency counsel meeting called by the Elders, half heartedly listening as the commander translated the speeches given. He estimated that all of the commanders from the remaining tribes, plus their seconds were all crammed into the tiny room listening to idea's being presented on how find the hidden camp of the enemy and attack. Preferring action over talk, Rick's interest was lost long ago and he yearned to walk outside for a breath of fresh air. Quadamah must have sensed his boredom and suggested they take a walk outside away from the meeting. They were met outside by Tamim.  
  
"Sayiddi, I bring important news."  
  
"You have been missing for a day, we feared you had been captured. Why have you gone beyond my orders given a few nights ago?" Quadamah demanded.  
  
"Sayiddi, our messages between the tribes have been compromised. The enemy has known in advance of all our maneuvers including the plans for the exchange at Giza. I covertly observed all the messengers and their activities, capturing one man and to bring him in for questioning."  
  
"You got a prisoner? Where is this man now?" Rick asked.  
  
Tamim pointed to the building back down the road.  
  
"How long has the enemy infiltrated our courier system?" Quadamah asked.  
  
"It is my belief for the past month," Tamim answered. "I thought by interrogating him, we could obtain the location of his leader's camp and attack."  
  
"Sounds like a good idea to me," O'Connell confirmed.  
  
Commander and warrior continued talking but Rick took the opportunity and broke away, following the road until he came to the building Tamim had pointed out. He walked inside and found the prisoner sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, guarded by two Medjai.  
  
"English?" He asked and one nodded. "Good, can you and your friend give me a moment with this guy?"  
  
The two warriors exchanged uneasy glances but complied with his wishes.  
  
O'Connell walked over to the prisoner and without warning, suddenly hefted the surprised man up by his clothes, dangling him several feet off the ground.  
  
"I think you and I need to talk."  
  
The man flew through the air and landed in a heap on the other side of the room. Before he had a chance crawl away, O'Connell grabbed him and tossed him to the other side of the room. His body crashed against a small table and it broke, splintering into smaller bits of wood. He fell the ground with a thud, barely having time to moan from the pain when O'Connell picked him up once more.  
  
"This is how it works. I ask you a question and you tell me what I want to know. Simple, right?" Rick held him up with his fists clenched in the man's clothing.  
  
"I know nothing..." the man moaned.  
  
"Wrong answer and geez, I didn't even ask my question yet. Gotta play by the rules you know."  
  
The man was thrown again, stumbling over the chair and crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs. He was given no time to recover before O'Connell was once more upon him.  
  
"Question. Where is your leader's camp? Don't lie or you might make me angrier."  
  
"I have no leader...this is all a mistake," the man wailed.  
  
"Wrong answer."  
  
Rick threw him again, cursing against the burning sensation coming from his wounded shoulder. He paused for a moment, flexing and rotating his arm, glad to feel something else besides the end of his patience and the anguish that chipped away at his heart. His prisoner started to crawl away towards the doorway but Rick snagged him by the ankle before he got very far.  
  
"I'll ask again...where is your leader's camp?"  
  
"I will tell you nothing."  
  
Rick pulled him up and tossed him again, wincing when he heard the sickening thud of the body slamming against the foundation. He walked over and leaned down to the man, sprawled against the wall with a slightly dazed look on his face.  
  
"Gosh I'm sorry. Did you fall down? Here let me help you up," Rick offered and threw the man across the room once more. Giving no time for him to recover, O'Connell pounced on the prisoner and hauled him up again.  
  
"You know, we can keep playing this game all day. I kind of like it; I ask a question, you don't answer and I get to play toss the dummy."  
  
"O'Connell," Tamim's voice called from the doorway. "What in the name of Allah are you..."  
  
"Hold and let him finish," Quadamah advised and held back the warrior.  
  
Rick nodded his thanks to the commander and walked over to the hapless courier, moving his shoulder again and frowning at the way it hurt so much. He reached down and pulled up the man once more.  
  
"As much as I like playing this game, I was always taught to share. What do you say we call in the Medjai? I know those two over there are just waiting to come play with me and you know what?"  
  
Rick pulled the man closer, his eyes alight with an almost unholy fire.  
  
"I know they are pretty handy with those scimitars," he growled.  
  
The man whimpered and fearfully looked over at the two warriors.  
  
"In fact, I've heard stories where they can slice off a man's balls without him taking off his pants. What do you say we find out?"  
  
"La, la...please be merciful. I will tell you everything." The man finally submitted.  
  
"Don't tell me." Rick jerked his head towards the Medjai in the doorway. "Tell them and don't leave out any details or I'll come back. We can continue playing our game."  
  
Rick dropped the man to the floor and nodded to Tamim. He walked outside but could only manage to stumble over to the side of the building where he leaned against it. His shoulder was killing him, his arm numb and he felt sick. He leaned his head back and took in a large gulp of air, hoping to quell the urge to retch and closed his eyes.  
  
A few minutes later he felt a hand on his good shoulder.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Rick opened his eyes and looked at Quadamah with a sheepish grin. "Yeah, guess I got carried away in there."  
  
"Not at all, we now have the information we need," Quadamah said. "Come, I will take you back to your quarters and summons a healer."  
  
Slowly Rick pulled himself away from the side of the building and the two men walked back down the road.  
  
"I thought since it worked once for me before, it couldn't hurt to try again."  
  
"I was surprised you knew about some of our...techniques." The commander couldn't help but add a dry chuckle. They stopped at the doorway and Rick turned back to Qudamah.  
  
"So what happens now?"  
  
"I present this information to the Elders, we vote, but I believe popular consensus among the commanders will be we ride tomorrow. We will leave at dawn."  
  
"I'll be ready."  
  
~*~  
  
Captain Thomas R Mallory hated Egypt. He hated Cairo even more; the oppressing heat, the filth and disease that ran rampant, the poor and downtrodden that lined the crowded streets and begged for food or coin. In his many years of service in His Majesty's Royal Army, Thomas had seen his share of human suffering; friends and fellow countrymen killed in the line of duty for their King. None of that could have prepared him for the new level of misery when he first saw a child dead from starvation by the roadside. Its lifeless body was slumped against the wall of a dilapidated building, picked clean of anything of value and left to rot as the rats crawled over it.  
  
Thomas shuddered as he recalled the blank almost accusing stare of the corpse and he quelled the sorrow mixed with revulsion that choked his aching heart. As with all things in his life, he resigned himself to the basic facts. Like the dead that would be eventually removed from the streets of this town and disposed of without compassion or empathy, Thomas' military career was on a downward spiral. His superiors were just waiting for the day when it would be announced either he died of natural causes or had been murdered. His assignment to the fort was the last step in the shaky ladder of his career and Thomas knew his superiors were waiting for that ladder to collapse.  
  
A rueful smile tugged the corner of his mouth. It seems that even in the grand scheme of things, Thomas still couldn't follow orders. He surprised them all by surviving in this God forsaken land for more than ten years, despite the growing tensions between the Egyptians and the British. When his fellow officers were attacked in broad daylight three years ago, Thomas somehow managed to avoid confrontation although he lost seventeen of his countrymen  
  
King Faud ruled Egypt, but the new sovereignty allowed by the British government did little to appease the starving Egyptian people. Thomas had seen almost every level of cruelty known to man since living in Cairo.  
  
He was sitting at his old, scarred wooden desk when one of his staff announced he had a visitor waiting in the outer office. Not many tourists bothered to visit the fort and Thomas actually felt happy with the prospect of meeting his unexpected guest. He instructed the private to send the man in and stood up, brushing off his uniform and smoothing away any wrinkles.  
  
Allan Merriweather walked into the office and introductions were quickly made; Thomas indicated for the other man to be seated and offered refreshments.  
  
"I must admit your visit today surprises me. We don't generally open the fort to tours for the public."  
  
"I'm not here for a tour, but for a more personal and dire reason." Allan waved off the cup of tea offered. He reached down into the satchel he was carrying and pulled out a small folder, then placed it on the desktop. "Constable al-Dawla gave this to me this morning and asked for it to be given to you."  
  
"I see. And why would al-Dawla use you as a messenger?" Thomas reached for the folder and he scanned the reports. He shuffled the papers with a sense of uneasiness, already aware of the altercation at the port two days ago and personally felt the situation needed to be handled by Cairo authorities. Thomas looked up in surprise when he read that the missing British woman was Merriweather's wife.  
  
"This is no longer a civilian matter," the other man stated. "The good constable suggested I seek military assistance in finding Olivia."  
  
Thomas' uneasiness increased when he noted the mention of the Medjai in one report, since he was well  
  
versed on the secret warrior society. He chose not to believe all the superstition and nonsense about them.  
  
"Your wife has been missing for two days. I'm sure al-Dawla informed you of the chances of finding her are remote if not impossible?"  
  
"I am well aware of the improbability of a rescue, but her family is demanding proof."  
  
Thomas flipped the report closed and leaned back in his chair. "What kind of proof?"  
  
"They want to see the damn body," Allan snapped. "Bloody stubborn doctors won't be satisfied until they can touch and examine her corpse."  
  
Thomas frowned at the other man's sudden outburst, placed his fingers on the folder and slid it away from him. "This is not for the military."  
  
"The constable assured me it would be," the other man argued and pushed the folder back.  
  
Thomas shook his head and pushed the folder again. "My men and resources are limited. I don't have a spare squadron of men that I can send into the desert, ill informed and possibly to their deaths looking for one woman. Who I might add, and forgive me for saying, may already dead if not sold as a slave to roving band of nomads."  
  
Allan sighed and reached down into the satchel again, pulling out a small envelope. He stuffed it inside the folder and pushed it back towards Thomas.  
  
"I have been instructed to compensate you and your men for the trouble. Her family is willing to pay any price necessary as long as it enables you to find Olivia. Find my wife or find her body, it doesn't matter to me."  
  
Thomas stared at the young man sitting in front of him with a mixture of astonishment and distaste. If asked to sum up his visitor's demeanor with one word, Thomas would chose `cold.' Merriweather exuded no warmth, no compassion and certainly no love as he begged for help. Thomas opened the envelope and blinked in amazement at the sum of money tucked inside of it. It was more than triple the amount of his pitiful pension and the thought of retiring from the service and going back to England certainly had better merits than living out his days in Cairo.  
  
"You can choose whatever men you deem necessary for the trip, as long as we leave today. The sooner we leave and get this over with, the better," Allan said.  
  
"I'm not sure what amazes me more, your undying love for your wife or you're enthusiasm to embark on a mission that could end up getting you killed," Thomas remarked dryly.  
  
"My personal reasons for going on this trip are not a concern and I'll ask that you refrain from questioning my motives in the future. All I need to know is do I or do I not have your cooperation in this matter?"  
  
Thomas sighed and toyed with the envelope. It would be insubordination going against his superiors orders to remain impartial to civilian activities. There would most likely be a hearing or court martial, and he would be stripped of his military rank, losing his pension. His sentence could probably be death if not exiled to living in Cairo and Thomas entertained the idea of handing in his resignation after the trip. The idea of returning to England far richer than when he left certainly helped make his decision and he slowly pocketed the envelope.  
  
"I accept your offer but first there are rules in which I expect you to obey. My men listen to my orders and mine alone; you are to act as an observer nothing more. There will be no arguments on the distance we travel or the means in which we employ. Whereas you seem fail to appreciate the futility of your search and risk your life, do not expect me to risk mine. If I say the search is over, we return to the fort and I expect due reparation for my troubles." Thomas stood up and extended his hand. "Have I made myself clear?"  
  
Allan stood up, one corner of his mouth twitching in a sarcastic smile. "Of course my good man, I understand completely."  
  
The two men shook hands and Thomas ushered Allan outside, giving instructions for him to return to the fort within two hours time. He watched the younger man thread his way through the crowded market area outside the fort gates until he disappeared from sight. He wondered for a moment if making this deal with Allan wasn't close to striking a deal with the devil. Thomas sighed and stepped back into the sanctuary of the fort. He walked back to his office and stopped in front of his desk, staring at the folder still lying there. He looked around the drab colored walls, lacking the accommodations and awards he once thought would grace the interior.  
  
His decision to help Allan suddenly seemed not so absurd anymore. 


	12. The burden of sorrow, the joy of love

Chapter 12  
  
Ardeth's voice washed over Asiya like warm honey and she looked up into the dark depths of his eyes  
  
"If allowed to fester, the weight of sorrow can crush the heart," she said sadly. "I too know the sadness of losing loved ones."  
  
Asiya climbed to her knees and bent down, one hand extended to the warrior. He reached up and slid his hand into hers, and for a moment, she marveled at the texture of his skin. It was warm and soft and she felt the small rough patches of skin at the base of each finger, creating a delicious friction as it rubbed across her hand. The calluses were the result from years of wielding a scimitar.  
  
She pulled him to his feet, taking on as much of his weight as possible and wrapped one of his arms over her shoulder. Slowly she navigated them back into the chamber and caught his sigh of frustration once they crossed over the threshold. A small smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.  
  
"Do not fear, warrior. I will not keep you prisoner in this room for the remainder of the day but instead, thought to at least cover the rest of your body with a robe. I think Is'af would appreciate our …thoughtfulness."  
  
She walked him over to a small chair, gently easing Ardeth's tall frame down letting his arm slip from her shoulders. He leaned back and passed a shaking hand over his face, a poor attempt at hiding his exhaustion from the alert gaze of the healer. Asiya rummaged through a small chest at the foot of the pallet and eventually pulled out the garment she was searching for.  
  
"Tell me what happened." Ardeth's voice was quiet yet commanding.  
  
"It's been so long since I've thought of him…" Asiya murmured and walked over. She stood in front of Ardeth and draped the robe over his shoulders, brushing back a few stray locks of hair curled over his broad shoulders. "In my twelfth summer, my family was blessed with the birth of my brother, Shakir. My parents had given up hope of having any more children several years after I was born so his arrival into our family was a jubilant occasion."  
  
She motioned for him to lean forward, pushing an arm through each sleeve, subconsciously enjoying the close intimate contact of his head leaning against her stomach. For the briefest of moments, she rested one hand on his hair before she continued with her story.  
  
"Shakir was a beautiful, inquisitive baby who always got into trouble and my mother placed me in charge of his care. My brother rapidly learned how to crawl, then walk and finally run. I would chase after him for many hours and he would always look back to make sure I was following. He thought it a game to play and would laugh as he ran away from me. When I was sixteen summers old, marauding Tuareg were stealing horses and cattle from some of the nearby settlements. The warriors were on alert and the Elders felt confident my village wouldn't be attacked. An error in judgment that cost many innocent people their lives."  
  
Asiya stopped talking for a moment as memories long ago buried surfaced with a bittersweet agony. She stiffened for a moment when she felt Ardeth's arms wrap around her waist but accepted his comfort with a heartfelt sigh. She placed her arms around his shoulders, leaned into his solid strength, and felt it absorb into her soul.  
  
"I was outside of our home watching Shakir play with some of the other children when the first riders came charging through the streets. Friends and family were killed indiscriminately, and my father ran out with a few men to meet the charge. They were gunned down within a matter of moments. I remember I stood there in shock, screaming my father's name and not even thinking of Shakir until he ran over to my father's body. I started running, desperate to save him, thinking it would be my fault if he were killed. I threw myself at my brother just as a Tuareg took aim with his rifle. The bullet grazed my arm but hit Shakir in the chest."  
  
Asiya stopped for a moment to regain her composure, tears threatening to spill forth from her eyes as she whispered the conclusion to her story. She felt Ardeth's hold tighten around her and gently stroked his hair.  
  
"Heedless of my own injury, I gathered the limp body of my brother into my arm's and tried to staunch the flow of blood from his chest with my hands. I pleaded with Allah to take my life and in place of Shakir's, I screamed my anguish and pushed away those who came over to help. He died in my arms just as my mother came running over to see what had happened to her husband and children. By that time, the Tuaregs had dispersed, leaving behind a village riddled with bodies and the streets running with blood. My mother's composure failed when she saw the dead bodies of her husband and son. She took out her anger on the one person she found alive and blamed me for their deaths. After all, I was supposed to have been watching Shakir. I was the one who should have died instead of him. My mother refused to speak to me from that day forward and for many years after that, the rift that developed between us grew as wide and as vast as the Sahara."  
  
She leaned back and gently took Ardeth's face into her hands, and leaned down staring intently into his eyes.  
  
"I let my own guilt over the death of my brother blind me, consume my heart and weigh down my soul. I believed I had failed my family since I didn't die in his place and guilt ate away at my insides. It festered like an untreated wound until one day, it exploded forth when pricked by a simple statement from my mother. In one of the rare occasions when she would speak to me, she asked me if I ever considered taking my own life in exchange for Shakir's. I wanted to argue with her, to plead for her love and understanding but then I realized she would not grant me forgiveness just as she would not grant herself. For purposes I have yet to understand, my mother refused any reconciliation, preferring to wallow in her own sorrow until it finally broke her heart. It was her death that finally prompted me to reevaluate my own feelings of remorse. I accepted the past, acknowledged the lessons taught but broke the power it held over me for Shakir. In doing so, I freed myself from the feelings of guilt in knowing that there was nothing I could have done that day to save my brother. It was the will of Allah that he died just as it was Allah's will that I lived. Do you understand my lesson, warrior? You avenged Janan's death in the hopes of finding closure and a release of your anger, but instead, it was only a temporary outlet. You rescued your friend and saved his life, thus redeeming the warrior. When will the man find redemption? When will you be able to release the past and embrace the future?" Asiya's hands fell away from Ardeth's face and she leaned back, slowly closing the robe and belting it around his waist.  
  
He remained silent, contemplating the healer's story, his face void of any emotion except for the brightness in his eyes. When he finally spoke, it was with great difficulty.  
  
"I do not… know how to forgive myself," he whispered the hoarse plea. "There was a time in which I thought I could rise above my sorrow, but it pulls me back down, as if I am sinking into a pit of quicksand. I grow so tired of this ache in my heart and yearn for…peace."  
  
"Find your inner strength from within here," she gently poked his chest. "It has been substantial enough to guide you through the bleak days of the past, it will be substantial enough to help you forge ahead through the days of tomorrow. Forgiveness warrior."  
  
"Help me, healer," he replied.  
  
"With all that I am…" Asiya stepped back and reached down with one hand. She saw the indecision flash over his face and knew the price his warrior's pride may have paid in accepting her assistance. He stared at her hand, perhaps wrestling with his inner turmoil then slowly, he reached out and placed his hand into hers. His grasp was strong and sure as Asiya helped him to his feet and once more, draped his arm across her shoulders. They slowly walked back out into the hallway and down towards the kitchen area, the silence between them pregnant with mixed emotions.  
  
She was thrilled he was learning to accept her help and flustered because she could finally admit this warrior had captured her heart. Feelings of love were new and frightening, not yet to be accepted and they fluttered around in her stomach, tying it into nervous knots. She was amazed in the short time she had come to know Ardeth, the depth and intensity of her feelings for him had grown. Asiya related to his sorrow, understood his pain and yearned to help him release himself from the sadness that had captured his heart for so long.  
  
May Allah have mercy on her for Asiya realized there would come a point in time when she needed to let her warrior go. The thought of his leaving was more unsettling than the thought that somehow, she had fallen in love with Ardeth.  
  
~*~  
  
Loch-nah stood in the entryway of Jahm's tent, arms folded across his massive chest, his bored gaze sweeping over the area of the camp below. In the past few hours, he had impatiently assumed command over the men, sending out patrols in three different directions to check on the nearest Medjai tribes. The orders were to observe, not incite battle and to return as soon as possible with any information. At his command, Kasim had restored some resemblance of control over the camp but it still was not satisfactory enough to suit Loch-nah. If he were in charge of these men, insubordination and disregard for duty would be dealt with the logical and necessary penalty – death.  
  
He would send back the bodies of the commanders to their people as a warning and as an intimidation tactic. He would not wait for the Medjai to strike but continue attacking their settlements, to undermine the warrior's strength and weaken them enough for one final assault.  
  
Loch-nah uttered a dark curse over his inability to act. His choice in remaining loyal to Hafez was only tethered by the promised command over an army that could rule the world. It irked the warrior's immense pride over his helplessness to do nothing more but to wait for his employer to come from Cairo. A message had been sent yesterday. Taking the chest, they would travel to Hamunaptra and begin the process of resurrecting He That Shall Not Be Named. A task that both men had hoped would be an easy one as long as Jahm continued harassing the Medjai.  
  
"Do you desire what you cannot have?" Jahm's sarcastic voice asked from behind.  
  
Loch-nah refused to answer as his dark gaze swept over the camp again. Kasim was training a small group of men but the mercenary's attention was caught by the covert actions of the young Tuareg ducking inside one tent.  
  
"Do you not think I know of the orders issued by you to my men?" Jahm questioned. "I am the one to give the commands. These are my men and I am their leader…"  
  
"Then act like one," Loch-nah snapped. "I ask you the same question; do you desire the chest? Since its arrival, you have done nothing but hide with it, ignoring your responsibilities as a so-called leader."  
  
"I admit my curiosity about it may have hampered my good judgment; a mistake of which I do not intend to duplicate."  
  
Loch-nah watched as the boy emerged from the tent, stuffing a pouch underneath his already bulky tunic and quickly move to the next one. He quickly glanced around then ducked inside the English woman's tent. Loch- nah backed into the dark interior as he continued spying on the young Tuareg, his interest peaked and ignored Jahm who was still standing behind him.  
  
"Do not let your error in good judgment happen again or I will take great pleasure in killing you." Came the growled warning.  
  
Loch-nah heard Jahm retreat but kept his eyes focused on the tent. Minutes passed as he kept his vigil, his patience finally rewarded when the boy emerged and hurried around to the side of the next one. He fell to his knees and quickly shoved the items he had been carrying inside the prisoner's tent. Scrambling to his feet, he heard a summons from a few men nearby and hurried over to do their bidding.  
  
Loch-nah blinked in amazement, a slow evil grin tugging up one corner of his mouth. It would appear that Jahm had a traitor amongst his men. His first instinct was to apprehend the boy to uncover the conspiracy but instead he chose not too. Better to see what transpires over the next few hours and eagerly await the outcome. It was meager entertainment at best but Loch-nah felt it would further undermine Jahm's authority and he eagerly looked forward to the outcome.  
  
"Tell me more about the Medjai, especially Ardeth Bay." Loch-nah cajoled and turned back inside the tent.  
  
~*~  
  
Ardeth felt light-headed and suddenly lurched against Asiya, making them stumble as she overcompensated for his weight. They twisted and fell against one wall, her body effectively captured by the heavy weight of his body against hers. He heard her startled gasp of surprise, felt her hands come up to timidly push against his chest even as he leaned into her softness, his thighs intimately pressed against hers. He wanted to step back yet felt powerless to move. Impulsively he slid his fingers through the heavy waves of her hair, gliding through the strands as he slowly brought his hands down to cup the sides of her face. He applied the gentlest of pressure, titling her head upwards, his eyes straying down to her lips, noting they were partially open as if she seemed to have trouble catching her breath. Ardeth felt it wash over him, engulfing his soul and immersing his heart. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, deluged with feelings he had never thought to have again and he hesitated; their strength too new and overwhelming.  
  
His eyes opened a moment later when he felt the first feather light caress of her fingers on his face. They skimmed over the tattoo's, mapping out the dark design on his skin as if committing them to memory. Her hand moved down to his mouth, exploring the fullness of his lower lip and the texture of his beard. Ardeth captured her hand and placed a small kiss on the palm, smiling to himself when he heard her startled intake of breath. He imprisoned it in both of his own and guided them to a resting place on his chest, certain she could feel the beating of his heart.  
  
"Shukran ya Asiya hilwa," Ardeth murmured and slowly lowered his head, intent on plundering the beckoning softness of her lips. He was mildly surprised when she leaned up to meet him halfway.  
  
A discreet cough from behind them broke the intimate spell that had cocooned them and Ardeth looked up to see Na'ima standing a few feet away, an unreadable expression on her face.  
  
"I apologize for the intrusion…" she glanced at Asiya. "Solman has returned from Cairo with the helper." 


	13. Plans and counter balances

Chapter 13  
  
In the two-hour time frame given before Allan had to report back the fort, he thought he had played the part of the frantic yet determined husband quite well. As soon as he arrived back at the hotel, he sent yet another message to his in-laws in London. He informed them of the latest progress and of course, slipped in a small note requesting more funds for ensuring the aid of the military in their little trip. He assured them Captain Mallory seemed quite competent and knowledgeable, rather than mentioning the man's reluctance to undertake such an expedition. He closed his message with the fervent hope that by tomorrow night, he would be holding Olivia in his arms again.  
  
It was the last part of the message that set Allan to drinking.  
  
He sat in a large wicker chair on the balcony of his room, idly swirling around the amber colored liquor in his glass as he reviewed the past fifteen months spent with Olivia. Allan was never a realist and it frustrated him when he reached the conclusion he had always known but never had the courage to admit to himself. He married Olivia for the wealth that stemmed from her influential family. Not for love and certainly not for the adventures they lacked inside the bedroom. His wife was a means to keep Allan searching for the one elusive card game in which he could recoup all of his losses in one fell swoop. He had yet to stumble across his winning hand and had felt sure that Olivia's abduction was a sign of better things to come. The idea of her lost somewhere in the Sahara while he slowly and carefully spent her fortune was the very key to help him further his gambling career. It was her stubborn family that couldn't leave things well enough alone.  
  
Allan gave a dry laugh and drained his glass in one swallow. "They still want to see the damn body," he muttered.  
  
He threw the glass off to the side where it crashed onto the hard floor and slowly eased himself out of the chair. He packed what he thought was necessary and thought about Captain Mallory from the fort. Just his bloody luck that the captain was more than eager to accept monetary compensation for his efforts, but then, Allan surmised, everyone has their own price they either set or pay in the end.  
  
He left the hotel some time later, threading his way through the crowded streets and arrived at the fort a few minutes later than anticipated. He hated the beggars that stood outside the gates and shoved them aside as he strode into the courtyard. He stopped short when he saw the captain mounted with his men.  
  
"Mr. Merriweather, I would appreciate your efforts on punctuality improving in the near future?" Thomas asked succinctly.  
  
Allan waved a hand at the captain as he hurried over to his horse, threw his satchel over the saddle horn quickly mounted.  
  
"My wife is still lost in the desert, Captain. A few more minutes either way won't make a difference."  
  
Thomas glanced uneasily at the small group of men he had chosen for this assignment and he saw Doctor Nathaniel Groves shake his head in disbelief.  
  
"A few minutes either way could mean life or death for your wife, Mr. Merriweather. I would kindly ask you remember that in the future," reprimanded Thomas.  
  
"Right," Allan muttered.  
  
Thomas cleared his throat as if to ease the tension and informed the men their first stop would be Sedment el-Gebel, estimating their arrival tomorrow afternoon. He gave the signal and the men started to ride out from the fort.  
  
"Why are we stopping already?" Allan asked and spurred his horse forward.  
  
"I have informants there that keep me posted on most of the developments in this region. Judging from your description of your wife's appearance, her unusual coloring would not be hard to miss if she happened to come by that way, whether as a free woman or a slave," Thomas replied.  
  
"One can only hope," Allan murmured sarcastically.  
  
~*~  
  
"What news do you bring, Honored Helper?" Ardeth asked.  
  
The two men were seated in the common living area of the building that served as kitchen and classroom. Asiya with Na'ima had brought Ardeth over to one of the two cushioned chairs situated by the central hearth. When the sentry came in with the helper, the two women went over to the cooking area where Is'af was preparing the evening meal, leaving the two men to have their discussion in private.  
  
Sued was a spry energetic little man, with a sprinkling of gray hair in his beard, his warm brown eyes alert and intense. When the men had exchanged greetings and introductions, Sued had been astonished to learn that the warrior he and Waleed had rescued a few days ago was the commander of the Eighth. He had asked if they could retire somewhere to talk explaining his delay in arriving at the compound was due to the high volume of messages passed between the tribes and helpers. Once seated, Sued first explained his reaction when finding out Ardeth's identity.  
  
"You see it is believed among our people that since your body was never recovered at the port…you are presumed dead. The American has been with Quadamah's tribe for the past two days but the fate of Commander Nabil is uncertain. He was wounded during the battle and taken prisoner."  
  
"Nabil captured…" Ardeth murmured sadly, concerned for the welfare of his friend. "What of the chest?"  
  
"Captured by one of Musad's Seconds, Qutaybah. I believe you are familiar with this army of men since his predecessors were the brothers Sariyah."  
  
"I know of them," Ardeth's response was cold and clipped.  
  
"Once Waleed and I returned to Cairo, I received word from a helper who lives near Quadamah's settlement that the commander had sent his own men to act as messengers bearing the news of your death and Nabil's capture. I thought this odd he would not rely on his tribe's couriers and asked Waleed to ride there to investigate. For the past two days, helpers from as far away as Aniba and Edu have traveled to Middle and Lower Egypt. The sects have decided amongst themselves to help expedite messages between the tribes and our plan has been successful. We have acted as relays between all the settlements and yesterday, I learned the enemy knew of the exchange and set up the ambush."  
  
Ardeth's attention was diverted when Asiya appeared by his side, shyly presenting a tray of tea to serve both men. He watched her gracefully pour one cup and serve the helper. She kept her eyes on the task at hand when she served Ardeth but looked up in surprise when his fingers brushed over the back of her hand in a silent caress as she handed him the cup. Cheeks blooming pink with embarrassment, she quickly hurried back to the kitchen area as Ardeth watched her retreat, appreciating the slight gentle sway of her hips.  
  
"Commander?" Sued called.  
  
"Please continue," Ardeth instructed and turned his attention back to the helper. "The exchange at Giza was known by Musad?"  
  
"Aiwa. Prior to leaving for the compound, I received more news from a helper living in Deshasheh. The chest is in Musad's camp, supposedly situated just beyond Sahara el Gharbiya. The commanders of the tribes are preparing for war and it is believed they will ride out at dawn tomorrow."  
  
Ardeth leaned forward in the chair, resting one forearm on his knee. "Are you certain of the chest's location?"  
  
Sued shook his head. "This cannot be confirmed but I believe the helper who reported this information would have no reason to speculate. I must confess during the course of events over the past few days, no one has thought to send any news here. This compound is very secluded from the rest of the settlements. I was surprised when the sentry appeared at my home."  
  
"How long of a ride would it be to the camp from here?" Ardeth asked and leaned back in the chair. He caught the look of concern on Asiya's face when she glanced over having heard his question but turned his attention back to the helper.  
  
"I believe one day's ride," estimated Sued. "Do you intend to try and retrieve the chest?"  
  
Ardeth's grim silence was answer enough.  
  
"Commander, I do not wish to show any disrespect for your decision but there is no guarantee the chest will be there. Just as there is no certainty in finding Musad's camp. You would be risking your life in a foolish venture into the Western Desert…"  
  
"Honoring my oath taken as a warrior is not foolish. I must do what is in my power as I seek to right my wrongs," said Ardeth in a soft yet commanding voice. "I do not need my actions questioned by a Helper."  
  
"My apologies," Sued bowed his head in respect. "May I then offer my assistance? You will need it once you regain possession of the chest since the weight of it requires the strength of two men."  
  
"You speak of this as a foolish venture yet you offer your help?"  
  
"How can I not? We of the Helper Sect are also bound by an oath. I would not be honoring my vows if I did not offer my support," Sued explained.  
  
"I gladly accept it," Ardeth said.  
  
"There is one advantage we must exploit," Sued suddenly declared.  
  
"Explain this advantage," Ardeth asked, intrigued.  
  
"Remember our enemy thinks you are dead. If we were to dress as nomads we would hide our identities as Medjai. Once at the camp, our presence would not cause alarm and we would be able to complete our task with little interference. I am certain the healers have two robes we can wear."  
  
Ardeth remained silent for a few moments, contemplating Sued's idea for disguises. He preferred wearing the traditional garb of a warrior when in battle, proudly proclaiming his ancestral heritage to his foes as Medjai. It was known to strike fear and panic in the heart of the enemy when the protectors against the curse of the Hom-Dai, the warriors for God came to extract their retribution for disturbing He That Shall Not Be Named. To hide his identity seemed absurd, but as Sued had mentioned it was an advantage to exploit. Ardeth agreed and the men continued making plans to leave the compound tomorrow morning at dawn.  
  
~*~  
  
"You lie," cried Quadamah's eldest son, Zubair. "There is no such thing as this…this snow that falls from the heavens."  
  
Rick leaned back in his seat, stretched out his long legs in front of him and smiled fondly at the gaggle of children clustered around him. He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and mentally counted six of Qudamah's children along with four of the neighbor's kids all staring at him in with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. An hour ago, Quadamah had invited him over to join them for the evening meal but at the last minute was called away for a brief meeting with a few other warriors. The commander's wife Yasmine was balancing a baby on one hip as she expertly maneuvered around the cooking area, keeping a watchful eye on her brood with a soft smile.  
  
While Rick waited, he felt like he was under a subtle ambush.  
  
The children had crept closer and closer to him, whispering amongst themselves and giggling. They were fascinated with him, from the color and texture of his hair to the clothes he wore. Those brave enough stepped forward to touch him and Rick turned it into a game, trying to snatch a chubby little hand that lingered too long on his arm or leg. His first victim squealed with laughter when Rick scooped him up in one arm. He stood up, tucking the child against his hip and pretended he was going to drop the boy. Squeals of laughter over this simple game endeared him to the children and they clustered around him, asking questions translated by Zubair. Questions of his home, about Evy and Alex made Rick feel homesick and he had glanced over at Yasmine holding her baby. Bittersweet regret flooded his heart for a second when he realized how big Alex probably had grown by now and he had missed it. He looked at Zubiar, guessing the boy to be around eleven or twelve years old. The long, gangly limbs and long thin torso showed the boy had the promise of his father's height as well as tenacity. Zubair just didn't ask questions, he demanded them.  
  
"There is too," Rick finally answered. "You've had rain storms out here in the desert right?"  
  
Zubair translated and ten dark heads all nodded in unison.  
  
Rick suppressed a grin since they were hanging on his every word.  
  
"Ok so picture a rain storm but its so cold out, you can see your breath. Because it's so cold, the rain gets frozen on the way down from the clouds and turns into snow. Light, fluffy snow flakes that are great for making into snowballs and snow men…"  
  
Zubair translated again and an excited murmur swept over the children.  
  
"Explain how you can see your breath." demanded the boy.  
  
"Uh…oh boy," Rick scratched his head. Explaining the finer points of meteorology wasn't his strong point and thankfully Quadamah walked in before Rick could embarrass himself or embellish anything further.  
  
The commander clapped his hands for attention, sorting through the children for his own, sending off the others with a good-natured ruffle of the hair before he greeted his wife.  
  
Eventually he sat down and Rick shared the meal with the whole family, feeling for once more like a friend rather than an outside.  
  
After they ate, Quadamah and Rick sat near the hearth at a small wooden table and the commander drew forth a large scroll of papyrus, unrolling it to reveal a crudely drawn map.  
  
"This is the Sahara el Gharbiya above the Western Desert," he began. "The prisoner gave us very detailed descriptions of the area and I must again thank you for your efforts."  
  
"No problem," said Rick with a slight grin. "Go on.'  
  
"I've sent ten scouts ahead to track the area and report back to us, when we arrive, the best positions to place the warriors. The tribes of the Second, Seventh and Fourth will place themselves on three sides of the camp for a simultaneous attack. I have ordered Lu'ay and Tamim to accompany you to get the chest. Nothing else matters but the chest. The tribe of the Third has sent three squads that will remain near the camp but will not engage in any of the fighting. Instead they will escort you back to Giza and ensure your safe passage back to England."  
  
"What about the City of the Dead? Do you expect an attack there?"  
  
"All has been quiet there if not tense. Ardeth's Second Ra'id has been protecting Hamunaptra, but as a precaution, the tribes of the Sixth and Twelfth will help reinforce the Eighth. The remaining tribes of the First, Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh will act as buffers around Middle Egypt to defend off any surprise attacks."  
  
Both men were silent for a few moments, each lost in his own thoughts regarding the upcoming journey and subsequent battle. Rick was actually amazed at the amount of warriors that made up the Medjai but couldn't help to question the warrior's outdated method of relaying messages.  
  
"Your people are using something as old and outdated as the Pony Express was in America," he commented.  
  
Quadamah sighed. "For many months, the warriors have petitioned the Elders to adapt a newer, faster method of relaying information between tribes. The Elders are old men who cling to the beliefs and tools of the past. Change is not accepted lightly."  
  
"Yeah but what price do your people have to pay for lack of progress? You've lost Ardeth, probably Nabil and countless others all because your message system was sabotaged. Sounds to me you would have done better with using a phone or sending smoke signals…even carrier pigeons for God's sake."  
  
"Birds?" Quadamah was at first puzzled until it suddenly occurred to him. "Of course, the Egyptian god Horus."  
  
"What's he got to do with anything?" Rick was certainly confused and shook his head.  
  
"Explain to me about using birds to relay messages," Quadamah asked.  
  
"Uh, okay but it may not be enough to help with anything," warned Rick.  
  
"My friend, any information given will be enough help to make the necessary changes. You will have the gratitude of me and my people."  
  
Rick shook his head and smiled sadly, remembering a time not so long ago when he heard another say the same thing.  
  
"I never wanted that, although I do appreciate it. I just want my friend Ardeth back. We both know that's not possible."  
  
"Tomorrow we will avenge the loss of a friend, of a warrior brother who has been taken from us. We will honor Ardeth's memory as we ride into battle and if Allah blesses us with victory, we dedicate it in Ardeth's name. With blade, blood and bone I will honor this sacred oath."  
  
~*~  
  
After the evening meal Ardeth was left alone with Asiya and he watched her move around the small eating area. Na'ima escorted Sued to his chambers and Is'af took the sentries their meals. A small smile graced his lips when he remembered the countless nights he had watched Janan perform the same functions in their home. The smell of freshly baked flatbread, herbs and spices mixed with the warmth of sitting by the hearth made Ardeth reminiscent of happier times. He wondered if he would ever feel that contentment again. Suddenly, Ardeth needed to talk to Asiya and started to try and draw her into conversation. After a few minutes of listening to her short polite responses, Ardeth tried a different tactic. Asiya stood a few feet away with her back to him, sealing something in a small wooden container.  
  
"Asiya?" he called softly. "Come and sit with me. I wish to speak with you."  
  
She glanced up in surprise at his offer and slowly, still clutching the container in her hands, walked over and sat in the chair next to him. She refused to meet his intense gaze.  
  
"Yamahi, what is wrong?"  
  
"You will be leaving tomorrow morning?" she asked bluntly.  
  
"Aiwa. Sued wanted to leave tonight, but has agreed to leave tomorrow at first light. This decision does not please you?"  
  
Asiya nodded her head. "I have concerns."  
  
"Explain these concerns to me," he commanded.  
  
"It is…it is not my place to question your decisions…"Asiya stammered. "I have a fault for speaking too honestly."  
  
"The trait of your honesty is refreshing. In the short time I have come to know you, it is a quality I have come to appreciate," Ardeth smiled to ease some of her discomfort. "You may speak plainly with me."  
  
Asiya squared her shoulders and looked up at Ardeth, strength and resolve showing in her eyes.  
  
"I speak as your healer and protest the idea of your departure tomorrow. You are still not fully recovered from your injury and could suffer a relapse, perhaps causing more harm. Your thigh is not healed. I do not believe you are aware of your body's physical limitations as am I."  
  
"I am more than aware of my limitations," snapped Ardeth. "I am reminded with every step I take."  
  
Asiya jumped at the clipped tone in Ardeth's voice, but remained silent. He sighed when she went back to staring at her hands wrapped around the container again.  
  
"Do you have more concerns?" Ardeth prompted gently.  
  
"Aiwa."  
  
"Speak of them, please."  
  
"Your body needs time to regain its strength before you undertake a hard and physically demanding ride over the course of a day in the desert. Have either you or Sued considered this ride may take longer due to the weakness in your leg? How will it affect your seat in the saddle?"  
  
"I do not have a choice in this matter. The Elders of my tribe placed their trust in me for the exchange of the chest to be completed successfully. I failed. I cannot remain here in good conscience with the knowledge that my brother warriors are risking their lives to rectify my mistake."  
  
"You would gladly forfeit your life in trying to appease the Elders?" asked Asiya.  
  
Ardeth drew in a deep breath before responding, trying to retain some semblance of control over his temper. He had bravely faced hordes of the undead, battled evil incarnate and protected the lives of the innocent, yet when faced with explaining to Asiya his duty as a Medjai, he felt as awkward as a young recruit given his first lesson with a scimitar.  
  
"I would forfeit my life to honor my vow," he responded quietly. "I am a warrior first and foremost. I had hoped that you would understand if not accept my decision."  
  
Asiya shook her head and stared down at her hands again, subconsciously rubbing the sides of the container.  
  
"You ask too much of me warrior. I do understand the need to honor your oath, having taken one of my own. To ask me to accept your decision of…" her voice broke with emotion. A tear escaped from the dark fringes of her lashes and rolled down her cheek.  
  
Ardeth softly called her name and struggled to his feet. The need to soothe and reassure her within the strong circle of his arms compelled him to move and he reached out to her.  
  
She jumped up from the chair, in the process dropping the container to the floor and moved away from him. It rolled around on the tiled floor, the only noise within the room that sounded abnormally loud. Her refusal of his comfort made Ardeth's heart constrict with a sudden pain and he watched her wipe her face, struggling for composure.  
  
"You would be asking me to accept your death," she continued. "In doing so I would violate my own vows to cherish life. It would go against all that I believe in and have been taught."  
  
They were silent for a few tense moments, Ardeth never more keenly aware that whatever fragile bonds had been built between them were slowly being pulled apart. Like a hand passing through the delicate octagon of a spider's web, the balance between warrior and healer suddenly shifted. Lacking a foundation in which to anchor it the web fell apart. Ardeth was powerless to stop the developing rift and his fears were confirmed a moment later.  
  
"Perhaps we do not balance each other as I had first thought warrior. We are too different from one another and I can plainly see that now." She moved away from him and walked over to the doorway.  
  
"You are right. I appreciate your candor." Ardeth's voice remained steady and calm, his face void of emotion. He purposely shifted his weight to his injured leg and almost welcomed the resulting pain that chewed through his psyche with dull teeth. Anything to distract his mind from the torment he felt in his heart as Asiya walked away.  
  
"May Allah grant you a safe journey tomorrow, Commander Bay," Asiya called from the doorway. She looked back at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears then she turned and fled before he could respond.  
  
In a brief flare of his temper, Ardeth turned and knocked over his chair in frustration. Na'ima had just walked into the room and gave a startled yelp of surprise when she saw it fly across the room. She backed up a step away from Ardeth and stared at him, one hand resting over her heart.  
  
"Do you wish to retire to your chamber now?" she asked somewhat lamely. "I could help you walk there…"  
  
"La," Ardeth snapped and waved off her assistance. He took a few stumbling steps towards her, striving to find the correct shift of his weight to counter balance his limping gait. By the time he reached the doorway where Na'ima was still standing, he had his temper under control and murmured an apology.  
  
Ardeth was surprised when Na'ima stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.  
  
"Help Asiya find the balance again warrior. It is the will of Allah that the two of you compliment the other."  
  
Author's note: Special thanks to MArcher for use of the "carrier pigeon" idea. I hope this chapter was everything you've come to expect from me and don't worry, I'm getting to poor Nabil. ;-) 


	14. Prayer for the dying and advice

Chapter 14 Part I  
  
"The time has come."  
  
Wajeeh called out to Aliyy and finished the last of the preparations with a heavy sigh. He glanced over at his friend who had taken up a silent vigil by the slit in the canvas sometime after sunset. It was as if in refusing to look behind him, Aliyy would not acknowledge the grim truth that in the brief battle Nabil waged between life and death, the latter was winning.  
  
Wajeeh had felt a small stirring of hope earlier when Faris had smuggled to them a small bundle of clothes and a pouch of whiskey stolen from one of the men. He had hoped by stripping Nabil of his bloody outer robe and tending to the wound with some rags soaked in alcohol perhaps these measures would have bought some much needed time. Nabil had barely flinched when the cloth came in contact with the inflamed wound on his shoulder, the only indication of the pain he must have felt sliding past his teeth in a long, guttural moan of agony. Aliyy held him down while Wajeeh continued cleaning the injury the best he could and Nabil's movements were weak and ineffective in shedding his constraints. When Wajeeh finished, they pulled onto Nabil's limp body another shorter robe and petitioned Allah with prayers of mercy to spare the young commander's life.  
  
During the last few hours, as the sun slowly sank down into the horizon in a blaze of red and gold glory, Nabil's life seemed to ebb away. Wajeeh had suggested making the final measures and Aliyy reluctantly had agreed. Most likely unable to bear the sight of Wajeeh cleansing Nabil's body with the last of the rags, Aliyy had taken his post at the canvas, refusing to look backwards.  
  
"We should begin the prayers," Wajeeh said sadly.  
  
"Let there be no doubt you will hear my voice," Aliyy still refused to turn around. "Begin."  
  
"Laa ilaaha il-lal-laah," said Wajeeh and Aliyy's voice echoed behind his.  
  
Wajeeh folded Nabil's hands over his chest. "Allaahummagh-fir li Nabil warfa' darajatahoo filmahdeeyeen."  
  
Aliyy finally stepped away from his post and reached down to the ground near Wajeeh, pulling the last section of cloth over the body.  
  
"Waghfir lanaa walahoo yaa Rabbal-Aalameen," Wajeeh continued praying. "Wafsah lahoo fee qabrihee wa nawwir lahoo feeh."  
  
"Aameen," Aliyy responded and both men fell silent. Wajeeh glanced over at Aliyy's impassive face and briefly wondered how deeply this would affect his friend.  
  
"This is for the best," Wajeeh stated quietly.  
  
Aliyy stood up to walk over to the tent's opening but paused to look back at Nabil's pale face. His face remained stoic but his voice was hoarse from the anguish.  
  
"Explain to me how the death of a brother warrior is for the best? For all my years of service as a commander of the Medjai, any man's death is never for the best. Yet it serves a purpose that Allah has yet to reveal to me. Forgive me if I disagree. It is not easy to live by our oath yet I will gladly sacrifice my life to uphold it. I had hoped Nabil's life would not have been sacrificed so soon."  
  
Wajeeh nodded his agreement and watched Aliyy walk over to the tent's opening to summons the guards. A few minutes later, two men walked through the opening, one pushing Aliyy back with the tip of his rifle.  
  
"What is it you want, Medjai dog?" he snarled.  
  
"We demand the body of our brother be taken for burial. He has finally passed," Wajeeh replied and rose up from the ground.  
  
"You demand?" laughed the guard. "You are nothing but a scarab to be squashed."  
  
The second guard walked over to the prone body lying on the ground, staring hard at it as if to detect any sign of life. He reached down, pulled back a section of the cloth and stared into at Nabil's face. Suddenly he leaned up and drew back his foot; lashing out and soundly kicked the warrior's side. A moment later he glanced over at the first guard and shook his head.  
  
"Jahm will not be pleased," he concluded. "They are right, this man has died."  
  
The first guard gave a low growl of frustration and jabbed Aliyy in the chest.  
  
"Know this, warrior. I look forward to the chance when I can send you to meet your brother," he taunted.  
  
Aliyy refused to respond although Wajeeh saw the amount of control it took his friend judging by his tightly clenched fists at his sides.  
  
"Soon," the guard muttered his last threat and slowly backed towards the opening with the other man.  
  
"Tell Faris to come drag the body out of here," he ordered the other guard and turned back staring at the two commanders with an evil grin. "Tell him to dispose of it out in the desert and let the scavengers pick at its carcass."  
  
Aliyy muttered a dark curse and lunged at the man retreating through the opening, but Wajeeh stopped him and held him back.  
  
"La, save your strength for when the time comes," Wajeeh advised and released his friend.  
  
"You are right." Aliyy slowly nodded. "When the time comes, for Nabil and Ardeth we will have our retribution."  
  
"So it shall be done," agreed Wajeeh.  
  
The two commanders walked towards the back of the tent and waited for a few minutes until Faris arrived. They watched with impassive expressions as the boy came in with another man to remove the body. Wajeeh noted Faris kept his eyes averted as he gathered up the cloth covered warrior and quickly, carried it outside. Wajeeh followed and watched with a heavy heart as they gently placed it in the back of a long, two wheeled cart. He glanced up at Faris but before he could communicate any message, one of the guards was shoving him back inside.  
  
"Stay back, Medjai. Your turn to ride in the cart will come soon enough," the guard snapped.  
  
Wajeeh stumbled back inside the tent and glanced over at Aliyy. The two commanders exchanged a silent meaning with one another then both sat down cross-legged on the ground. There was nothing more to do at the moment except trust in Allah.  
  
~*~  
  
"What is this?" Asiya asked as Na'ima handed her a brown robe.  
  
"This is for the warrior to wear tomorrow on his journey. I think you should be the one to give it to him," Na'ima replied.  
  
Asiya shook her head so forcibly, her long braid of hair flipped over one shoulder and she tried to give the robe back.  
  
"I cannot," Asiya whispered. "I would rather you do it."  
  
"La," Na'ima shook her head and refused to take it. "I am not the one who loves him."  
  
Asiya gave a small sad laugh and walked away from Na'ima, the robe still in her hands as she sat down on the edge of her pallet.  
  
"I do not wish to love him. It is not meant to be," she murmured and stroked her hand over the soft brown material. "I have realized that now."  
  
"You should also realize that he loves you as well," Na'ima informed her and came over to sit down next to Asiya on the pallet. "Anyone who talks to him can see it. Do you not think his love would be strong enough to sustain him so he can return to you?"  
  
"I am confused and uncertain what to think," Asiya replied. "All I can think of is Ardeth dying a senseless death. I cannot bear the thought that I will never see him again."  
  
"Can you not trust the warrior in him to help him survive? It has kept him alive through far more ferocious battles than we could possibly imagine. It will keep him alive during the journey he must undertake and it will bring him back to you."  
  
"I am afraid to hope," Asiya whispered.  
  
"I would be more afraid of losing him since I lacked the trust in his warrior abilities."  
  
Na'ima rose up from the pallet and turned back to Asiya.  
  
"Go to him tonight and tell him how you feel. Seize this rare chance Allah has given you for happiness and love before it's too late. Find the balance again; the scales have merely shifted but not toppled over from any additional weight," Na'ima advised from the doorway.  
  
She left Asiya still sitting on the pallet and said a quick prayer in the hopes that her advice would not go unheeded.  
  
~*~  
  
Author's note: I felt the need to put the translation of the prayer at the end of this…  
  
There is no God but Allah. O Allah, forgive Nabil and raise his level among the rightly guided.  
  
Forgive us and forgive him, O Lord of all the worlds and expand his grave and illuminate it for him.  
  
So be it. 


	15. A brief note and small teaser preview of...

A brief note and small teaser preview of things to come. First, I must apologize for letting this story slack off for so long. My life has taken a few nasty curves lately, both personally and professionally but as I like to say, I've battled back like a Medjai fighting a mummy. Time to once again bring forth my story and end the suspense on a few things, namely the futures of Ardeth and Asiya, Olivia and Nabil. And of course, as I raise an eyebrow like Loch-nah, the fate of the chest. Bear with me till I manage to get the hang of FF, uploading and of course, still trying to write after working a very long day. I leave you with a preview of what's to come and a warning I find myself saying a lot these days.taken from the movie, "Next of Kin" I think it aptly describes and sets the tone for the next few chapters. "You ain't seen bad but it's coming." Thank you all for reading this story as well as my others. Shukran ya iSHab (Thank you my friends.)  
  
~*~  
  
Ardeth leaned closer to Asiya, the robe held between them somehow forgotten and falling to the floor. He loved touching her hair, the weight and feel of it like the finest silk against his hand as it slid through his fingers, strand after sleek strand. His fingers moved back to her face, skimming across the smooth skin until they came across her lips, tinted pink and partially opened as if Asiya found trouble breathing. The pad of his thumb caressed her lower lip before his hand gently settled on her chin. With the lightest of pressure, he titled her face up and bent down, unable to ignore the sweet temptation any longer. Tenderly he placed a sweet kiss on her lips. His mouth brushed over hers once, then twice and he felt her arms come up to timidly curl around his neck, her supple body pressing close to his hard length. Ardeth's tongue tentatively sought permission to explore the sweetness of her mouth as Asiya parted her lips with a sigh and eagerly complied. 


	16. Promise of love, fate of a future

Chapter 15  
  
Asiya held the brown robe clutched tightly to her chest and stood on the threshold of her room, indecision immobilizing her body. She hated feeling uncertain and loathed the insecurity that sometimes came with it. They were both unwanted emotions. She leaned against the door frame for a moment, her mind waging a war with her heart: logic against love.  
  
Ardeth had made his reasons for leaving tomorrow quite clear prompting Asiya to realize duty would always take precedence in Ardeth's life. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how his wife Janan had acknowledged and learned to cope with her husband's dual identities.  
  
She chewed on the ragged edge of her thumbnail as she contemplated Na'ima's advice. To love the man was to accept the warrior; one did not exist without the other. Na'ima had spoken of trusting Ardeth's warrior abilities and instinct for survival and Asiya blindly latched onto that concept. It represented the hope of his safe return. She had known that the time would come for when Ardeth would leave, but she had not expected it to come so soon.  
  
"Na'ima advised to seize this chance," Asiya muttered to herself and pushed away from the door frame. "Allah help and guide me for I will surely need it."  
  
She quietly crept down the hallway, the robe still held securely in her arms. She passed through intermittent puddles of silver light splashed on the floor as beams of moonlight streamed through the windows illuminating the way. She paused in the doorway to Ardeth's room, amazed to see a light burning and the warrior restlessly pacing in front of the pallet. Ardeth seemed preoccupied and agitated, his limp more pronounced, most likely due to fatigue. Asiya felt her heart constrict with an overwhelming tenderness and compassion and she had to call out to him.  
  
"Warrior?"  
  
Ardeth turned around and stared at her, surprise flaring up in his dark eyes that quickly congealed into what Asiya thought to be indifference. She was astonished at the swift range of emotions that flowed over his face and considered leaving. Instead she stayed and held out the robe as if it were a peace offering. "Forgive me if I am disturbing you," Asiya said. "I have come to give you this for tomorrow's journey."  
  
Ardeth stared at the offered garment, an unreadable expression on his face and at the moment, he refused to take it. His gaze focused on Asiya's face and he uttered one simple word. "Why?"  
  
She took a deep breath and slowly walked over to him, her eyes roaming over his body in silent appreciation of the warrior that stood before her, for the man that now stared back at her with a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. Briefly Asiya wondered if she had created that emotion; such power was a strange concept. "You no longer wish to wear this robe?" Asiya asked.  
  
"I thought you did not approve of my departure tomorrow," he said and seemed amazed at her actions, his voice a notch above a husky whisper.  
  
Asiya found her first tentative smile. "I still do not approve but have learned to accept it. I find I am learning to accept quite a few things this evening." She motioned for Ardeth to take the garment.  
  
He reached for it, his long fingers grasping the cloth but looked up in astonishment when she refused to relinquish her hold.  
  
"However I cannot give you this until I receive a promise," she whispered and stood only a few inches away from the warrior.  
  
"A promise?" Ardeth asked, frowning.  
  
"Aiwa," Asiya replied and with one hand, she let her fingertips trail a light caress over the back of one of his hands. She felt him flinch in surprise and was captured by the intensity of his gaze, mesmerized.  
  
"Explain this promise to me," he quietly demanded.  
  
Asiya traced the three pronged tattoo on his skin with the tip of one finger, her mind stumbling in its efforts to choose the right words. As she had warned him earlier, honesty was her strongest trait. She decided to let the words spill forth from her mouth without any thought or regard since they came from the heart.  
  
"You must promise that you will return to me, warrior. My heart will not accept anything less."  
  
"Is this the healer speaking, determined to keep her patient safe no matter the consequences?" asked Ardeth softly.  
  
"La, this is the woman who needs to tell the warrior of her love," Asiya replied and stepped closer still, losing herself in Ardeth's eyes, watching the impact of her words slowly register in his mind. "Inta malak ya maHabbi, ya warrior," she whispered. Her words held the power of freedom and with them her heart suddenly felt lighter. She watched Ardeth as her declaration slowly melted away the cold resolve on his face. Suddenly he closed his eyes and bowed his dark head, slowly shaking it.  
  
"I cannot make a promise that I may be unable to keep. Just as I cannot accept your love," he murmured dejectedly.  
  
Asiya blinked in confusion and fought down the panic in her heart, the belief that she had made a fool of herself. "I give to you freely what I suspect you have held since the moment you have awakened," she explained. "Perhaps it is premature to speak of this but I must confess you have somehow won my heart, ensnared my soul."  
  
"Then I give them back to you," Ardeth stated hoarsely and looked up, raw anguish flaring up in his eyes. "It would be for the best if you did not..we did not.."  
  
As his words trailed off and his hands dropped from holding the robe, Asiya stepped back completely baffled and unbalanced. Her mind called her a thousand times the fool but her heart refused to believe in Ardeth's rejection, for there had to be a reason. She had trusted her instincts and felt there was more to this than the simple reason he was giving. "For the best?" Asiya echoed a slight frown on her face. "Now I must ask the same of you; is this the warrior speaking or the man?"  
  
A weak smile flashed over Ardeth's face as he seemed to appreciate Asiya's use of his own words turned back on him. The smile faded as he appeared to be struggling with an inner torment. "This is the man whose heart could not bear the thought of something happening to you. I failed once to protect the woman that I loved, I cannot fail again."  
  
"So you will keep yourself from loving and being loved?" Asiya asked incredulously.  
  
"I will keep you safe."  
  
"My safety is not the issue here. Are you willing to deny yourself a chance for happiness?"  
  
"If it means that you will remain unharmed, ignored by those who would seek to hurt me through you, then aiwa, I gladly do so." Ardeth stated, unknowingly revealing to Asiya the true fear in his heart. He abruptly turned away from her, head bowed forward slightly, his hands clenched into tight fists by his sides. "You should leave now."  
  
"La."  
  
Asiya's quiet refusal surprised her as well as the sudden flare-up of her temper. Without thought she bundled up the robe and as Ardeth turned around to look at her, she threw it straight at his head. She felt a small amount of satisfaction when it wrapped itself around his face, muffling his oath of surprise. As Ardeth reached up and removed it, Asiya marched over to him and poked him in the chest to gain his attention.  
  
"I will readily admit my dealings with the opposite sex are quite limited since there are only three men that live here at the compound. I will also admit my surprise when I heard the stories of just how stubborn men are, especially warriors. Imagine how thrilled my friends will be when not only do I concur with their findings but also add my own discovery that the level of intelligence varies from man to man." Asiya folded her arms across her chest and waited.  
  
Ardeth pulled the robe down and stared at Asiya in disbelief. "You are saying I am stupid?"  
  
Remembering Ardeth's position among their people, his title as a commander of a tribe and the respect that was due, Asiya wisely changed tactics and gradually released her anger.  
  
"La," she sighed. "Instead I point out my previous suggestion that you find and use this great inner strength that has sustained you in the past. Do you not believe it can help you overcome this fear of allowing yourself to love again?"  
  
"I do not know," Ardeth replied, indecision showing clearly on his face. He refused to meet her steady unwavering gaze as he quietly added, "I am..unsure."  
  
Knowing all too well how much it had cost him to voice this admission, Asiya felt her heart soften and she wanted to reach up and smooth away the lines of worry on his face.  
  
"You asked me to help you, warrior. I am doing so now. Fear of the unknown is a natural reaction as we both stand on the precipice of a new life. But I would rather have you in my life and know fear than not have you at all. Fear is nothing compared to the emptiness I would feel without you."  
  
Asiya waited, holding her breath, as she watched Ardeth contemplate her words. Part of her was mortified at her behavior, so inappropriate for a maiden but felt the risk was well worth the acknowledgement and gift of Ardeth's love. Unable to bear the escalating silence between them as Ardeth methodically folded the robe, Asiya caved into her previous desire and reached out to touch his face in a light caress.  
  
"I meant no disrespect.." She murmured and let her hand drop away, feeling defeated.  
  
The robe was folded in half.  
  
"My honesty is a character flaw I have always struggled with.."  
  
The robe was now folded in quarters.  
  
"Tell me I have been wrong and I will gladly rescind my comments," she finally suggested. "Convince me I have been wrong in assuming you feel the same as I do. I will walk away now and would beg you to forget.."  
  
Ardeth draped the carefully folded garment over one arm and suddenly pulled Asiya into his embrace. She gasped at the impact; the feel of his hard length pressed against her body and stared up into his face, amazed to see a small smile dancing around his mouth.  
  
"You have the tenacity of a warrior," Ardeth said with a slow heart- stopping lopsided grin. "Has anyone ever told you that?"  
  
"La, I am not aware of this trait," Asiya muttered, for some reason unable to meet his unwavering gaze.  
  
"Ask this promise again of me," Ardeth suggested, and she looked up to find his eyes warm, bright and alive.  
  
Asiya took a deep breath to stop the nervous fluttering of her heart and replied, "Tell me you will return to me. I will not accept anything less except the promise from a warrior."  
  
They stared at one another for the infinite space of a heartbeat, Asiya knowing all to well Ardeth's reply would either cause great joy or pain. The expression of his face gradually morphed, like sand shifting in the desert wind and he no longer hid his emotions. The change was almost blinding, the deep promise of desire reflected in his eyes. She watched in wide-eyed wonder as he gently captured one hand and brought it up to his lips, placing a light kiss on the palm. Hope flared up within her heart.  
  
"I promise, ya Asiya hilwa that I shall return to you," Ardeth said and placed her hand over his heart. "As long as there is breath in my body, strength in my limbs. How can I not? You have healed my heart and now hold it in your hands."  
  
Asiya smiled as Ardeth's hand reached up to touch her face, his fingers grazing over her cheek until they slid into her hair. She leaned into his hand, the exquisite sensation of his touch searing a path to her soul.  
  
~*~  
  
Olivia hated waiting. She hated the uncertainty in Faris' plan, the fear that his covert efforts in procuring her freedom would not go undetected. Olivia hated not knowing if Nabil was still alive, amazed to come to the conclusion that if he had died, she was almost ready to forfeit her own chance of escape. She had felt a strong attraction to him since the night of her abduction and now could readily admit, her feelings for him went far deeper than she realized. Allan could not compare to Nabil and Olivia looked forward to the time when she could further explore her feelings for the warrior and hopefully, have him do likewise.  
  
She had paced the interior of the tent, senses alert to the slow passage of time, marked by the sun shining through the canvas and the progress of shadows across the ground. Near dusk, Faris and another guard had brought her the evening meal. She tried to capture the boy's attention but he kept his face turned away until the moment before he left the tent.  
  
"They have what you requested to be given to them. Now we wait for midnight." Faris had said and disappeared through the opening before Olivia could question him further.  
  
Through the course of the evening, Olivia had tried to keep herself preoccupied while waiting for the appointed hour. She failed miserably, especially when she had overheard her guards talking about the Medjai and of the one who had died. The guards were certain Jahm would not accept the news of the warrior's death with anything but anger, having lost one of many chances to strike back at his hated foe. This had been a short while ago and she had heard nothing since.  
  
Sighing, Olivia walked over to the opening and without alerting the guard, peeked up to stare at the night sky. The moon had reached its highest point, bathing the world below in brilliant iridescent light, revealing the details of the surrounding landscape with startling clarity. She despaired for a moment, wishing instead for a cloud to pass over the silver orb to provide much needed concealment.  
  
A low whistle came from the back of the tent, catching her attention and Olivia hurried away from the opening. She ran over and knelt down in the sand, watching as the blade of a knife suddenly popped through the material and began slicing downwards. A few moments later, Faris' hand reached in and Olivia grabbed it. She was tugged through the opening and almost landed on top of the boy, rolling off his body at the last moment. Faris stood up and reached down pulling Olivia to her feet. He closed together the tattered edges of the canvas as best he could.  
  
"Quickly, come this way," Faris murmured and grabbed her hand. He directed her towards the end of the camp, keeping close to the backs of the tents and away from drawing any unwanted attention.  
  
"Aren't we getting the other Medjai?" Olivia whispered breathlessly.  
  
"They chose not to escape but to sacrifice themselves so that we may live. It is my belief once our absence has been discovered, the warriors will try and distract the guards, therefore buying us precious time," Faris answered.  
  
Olivia had no time to reflect over what she considered the needless deaths of the other two warriors. Faris pulled Olivia towards her left and they ran behind the corral. He made her crouch down and poked his head above the top railing, his gaze sweeping over the camp. Activity in the camp had slowed down considerably as groups of men retired for the evening, a few remaining on guard duty. Faris whispered that he knew the guards would change in approximately two hours and motioned for her to move away from the fence. He took her hand once more and they hurried away from the camp and out into the open desert.  
  
~*~  
  
Dark eyes glittering like the stare of a cobra ready to strike, Loch-nah hid behind the tent flap and watched the boy and woman dart behind a row of tents, out to the corral and finally into the desert. He crossed his arms over his solid chest, one eyebrow raised as a malicious grin slowly creased his face. Why bother to further undermine Jahm's confidence as leader when letting the boy and woman escape served his purpose just as well. No longer was Loch-nah content to sit and wait for Hafez to bestow upon him what he felt he rightly deserved. Taking control of Jahm's men was a slow but continuous process with the reward more than satisfactory. Loch-nah would have the position of power he craved before resurrecting the priest.  
  
Loch-nah stepped outside of the tent and overheard Kasim calling out orders to the men on duty. Having been informed of Kasim's fascination with the English woman from Jahm, Loch-nah was always the one to seize an opportunity when one presented itself. Removing the second in command simply brought Loch-nah one step closer to what he craved and the Nubian started to walk towards the other man. His cunning mind was already thinking about Kasim's reaction when he learned about the woman's escape but Loch-nah suddenly stopped. His mercurial mood changed and with a sly chuckle to himself, turned back into his tent. It would be better to deliver the news of the English woman's escape tomorrow morning, after he had a good night's rest. It would make the ensuing chase much more interesting. 


	17. In the arms of angels Asiya and Olivia

Chapter 16

Ardeth leaned closer to Asiya, the robe held between them somehow falling forgotten to the floor. He loved touching her hair, the weight and feel of it like the finest silk against his hand as it slid through his fingers, strand after sleek strand. His fingers moved back to her face, skimming across the smooth skin until they came across her lips, tinted pink and partially opened as if Asiya found trouble breathing. The pad of his thumb caressed her lower lip before his hand gently settled on her chin. With the lightest of pressure, he titled her face up and bent down, unable to ignore the temptation any longer. Tenderly he placed a small kiss on her lips. His mouth brushed over hers once, then twice and he felt her arms come up to timidly curl around his neck, her supple body pressing close to his hard length. Ardeth's tongue tentatively sought permission to explore the sweetness of her mouth and Asiya parted her lips with a sigh and eagerly complied.

His tongue slowly slid into her opened mouth, eager to explore the moist sweet cavern and to learn her taste.  His hands pulled her willing body closer and his heart reeled from the heated contact of their embrace, a barely contained groan of need escaped from his lips. Her breasts were crushed against his hard chest and Ardeth craved more, the intoxicating scent that was Asiya breaking down all of the barriers he had erected around his heart.  Her innocent response to his masterful dominance of her mouth washed away the layers of loneliness and when he pulled her closer, her small whimper of desire pierced his soul.  

He felt her fingers entangle themselves in his hair, pulling and tugging on the silky-smooth strands as if this alone would bring them impossibly closer.  When her tongue tentatively stroked his, Ardeth felt pleasure spiral through his body and in its wake, he was left shaken to the core. He wanted the kiss to last an eternity as it washed over him, leaving him whole and clean.  He felt invincible.

However the incessant throbbing of his thigh was a constant reminder of his mortality, and reluctantly he broke the kiss.  Gently his lips fluttered over Asiya's mouth in smaller kisses, outlining the shape, committing the texture, shape and curve to memory until finally he pulled away.  He couldn't help the arrogant smile on his face as he gazed down at the woman who sagged against him in his arms.  She looked dazed, her eyes half closed from passion, her lips swollen from his kisses.  She leaned against him and Ardeth willingly accepted the additional weight although it made his thigh ache in response.  

He felt Asiya wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head against his chest; her hands clasped the edges of his robe.  Ardeth's arms came up to form a protective shield around her body and he fancied she could hear the erratic beating of his heart.  With a deep sigh, he rested his chin on top of her head and inhaled her womanly scent, marveling at how neatly their two bodies meshed together.  To him it signified two separate halves that had finally become whole.  He briefly closed his eyes and sent a heartfelt prayer of thanks to Allah for bestowing upon him such a gift.  Love in any form was a blessing but love found after so much heartache and grief was more extraordinary and precious.  Secretly he would admit he had believed he would never love again: the price was too high to pay for those who returned his affection.  And yet…Asiya had made him reevaluate his conclusions and face his deepest fear.  She had professed her love for him and he felt purified and rejuvenated by it.    

They stood for a few precious moments, locked in an embrace that held more than just physical comfort. It held the assurance of a love that would continue to grow stronger and forge a bond between them that would be undeniable.  The balance between healer and warrior was achieved once again, the scales in the balance that only Allah Himself could break.

Reality intruded upon the couple and with it, the pain in his thigh increased until finally Ardeth couldn't stop the groan of pain that slipped past his lips.  

"Your leg," Asiya cried softly and immediately pulled away from Ardeth, taking his hand, the love shining from her eyes making him feel humbled from its intensity.  Silently she led him over to the pallet.  He weakly protested but within a matter of a few minutes, Asiya had expertly maneuvered him not only into lying down and resting but had also checked his bandages.  

The silence in the room was a blanket of comfort that surrounded the couple and Ardeth felt lulled by it and by the tenderness in Asiya's care.  Exhaustion took its toll on the warrior and he fought a different kind of battle to keep his eyes open so he could watch the healer tend to him, her movements fascinating and graceful.   

"You must rest," Asiya gently chided as she watched Ardeth's struggle to remain awake.  Her hand brushed against his forehead.  "You are slightly warm."

"I wish to tell you again of my promise," Ardeth replied, willing his eyes to stay open. "There is much we need to discuss."

"Then I shall gladly listen," she smiled at him and sat down on the edge of the pallet, pulling the covers up around his waist.  She leaned against his shoulder and gently stroked back the hair from his face.  

"With all that I am…." Ardeth whispered and felt his body start to relax.  He turned his face so that it rested against Asiya's warm body, his eyes fluttering closed.  "As long as there is life in my body, I will return….to you."

He held her close, felt her arms wrap around him in a cocoon of comfort and finally he allowed sleep to claim his body and mind.  The last sound Ardeth heard before he tumbled into the realm of dreams was the voice of the healer whispering of her love for him. 

There were no nightmares waiting for him that night.

~*~

Olivia held tightly onto Faris' hand as they finally cleared the last of the tents in camp and she looked around in apprehension.  She kept expecting the alarm to be sounded once they discovered her missing from the tent but the night remained blissfully quiet.  The illumination from the moon above provided more than ample light to survey the surrounding landscape and she saw a small wagon tucked off to one side near a large grouping of rocks.  As they ran closer to it, a shiver of fear raced down her spine when she saw that something was lying in the back, covered by a tarp.

Faris pulled her around to the back and gestured for her to climb in but she couldn't move.

"What is wrong?" he asked impatiently, alert for any noise or alarm coming from the camp.

"Wha-what is under the tarp?" Olivia asked and involuntarily took a step backwards.  She already knew the answer and felt the tears gather in her eyes.

The Medjai had died.

"It was a necessary precaution," Faris replied and took hold of Olivia's hands.  He pulled her forward with a surprising amount of strength and determination, and then pushed her up onto the wagon.  

Ignoring her feeble protests, Olivia watched in horror as Faris threw back one corner of the tarp to reveal the face of Nabil, his facial tattoos standing out in stark relief against his pale skin.  Grief stricken, she pushed herself away from the body but her progress was halted by Faris' firm grip on her wrist.

"He is not dead," the boy quickly assured.  "I had feared the wait for nightfall might have killed him instead of his wound but the warrior has a fierce will to live.  He is alive by the grace of Allah, you must believe me."

Slowly Olivia crept forward and reached out with one shaking hand, checking for a pulse on the warrior's neck. Her fingertips pressed against his skin as she silently prayed she would find an affirmative sign of life and a moment later, her prayers were feebly answered.  

"Oh thank God," Olivia murmured and sagged with relief.  As Faris ran around the front of the wagon and climbed into the driver's seat, she scooted closer to Nabil and cradled his head in her lap.  Over and over again, she stroked back the hair from his face, her voice unable to express the multitude of feelings that had submersed her heart.  All she was capable of doing at that moment was to drink in the sight of his handsome face, committing it to be etched forever in her memory, eternally in her heart.

"Talk to him," Faris advised over his shoulder as he grabbed the reins.  "The warrior has gone to a place deep within himself to escape the pain his body is suffering.  I have heard stories of how they prepare themselves for death, allowing the body to be cared for by the living as they face their demise.  By talking to him, you remind him of the connection to this plane of existence and it will renew his desire to live."

"What do I say to him?" Olivia asked, desperate to do anything to keep Nabil alive.  

"Tell him what is in your heart," Faris astutely replied. Without further comment, he slapped the reins and the wagon lurched forward.

Olivia raised an eyebrow in surprise over his suggestion but instinctually felt he spoke with a wisdom that showed a maturity far beyond his tender years.  She looked out over the endless horizon of rolling sand dunes and couldn't help but to ask her next question.  "Where are we going?"

"To Sedment el-Gebel," Faris replied.  "We should arrive there by tomorrow afternoon, Inshaa' Allah."

Olivia had no idea about the settlement Faris had just named but she trusted him that it was one step of many that would bring her back to civilization.  Turning her attention back to the warrior and satisfied they were at last away from the madman Jahm and his followers, she shifted down in the wagon bed.  She leaned down, close to Nabil's ear and murmured, "Did you hear that my warrior?  Soon we'll have a doctor look at your shoulder and just maybe…you can tell him where it hurts."

As the wagon and its human cargo sped through the night, Olivia was oblivious to the passing of time or the change in the desert landscape.  The shadowed colors of the night, the brilliance of the stars and moon that hung overhead were all but lost to her; her world had shrunken down to one thing.  She did as Faris had suggested and kept talking to Nabil, whispering to him, encouraging him to live.  She wanted him to wake up and promise he would tell her of his heritage; what did the dark tribal tattoos on his face and hands mean and were there more on his body.  She longed to hear about his life and his beliefs just as much as she wanted to gaze down into his beautiful gray eyes, the color of them reminding her of an English winter's morn.

Olivia focused her concentration, all of her being solely on the man whose life she knew hung in the balance, ready to tip one way or the other.  She asked for a response, and then demanded one as slowly she began telling Nabil of her secrets.  Her fingertips continued to stroke the hair away from his face, her lips close to his ear and when she found she couldn't find the words to say anything more, she finally conceded to revealing the true extent of her feelings.

"Please live for me," she whispered over and over.  She gathered his limp body into her arms and cradled him against her body, his head resting against the gentle swell of her breasts.  "Please don't die, I can't lose you now. Not when we've just found each other.  I want to do so much with you, learn about you and…tell you what's in my heart.  Please."

Olivia pressed her lips to Nabil's warm forehead, the clinical side of her mind registering that it didn't feel any warmer than previously from his fever.  She gave a silent prayer of thanksgiving then went back to talking to the warrior, encouraging him to open his eyes.  Eventually her pleading for Nabil to live was reduced to the most basic of desires; she continued touching him and caressing his face.  Finally she whispered of her need and love for him.

Nabil still remained unconscious.

~*~

_It hurt to move, even more to think.  _

_It was better for him to remain in the darkness, away from the pain that radiated from his shoulder and flowed through his body like molten fire.  The infection that raged from the bullet wound had eaten away most of his strength and for a man who had once considered himself a strong fighter; he was more than ready to surrender._

_He had been prepared to die, had made peace with his earthly counterparts and had begun taking the first few steps towards the afterlife.  He walked through a long dark, narrow tunnel, eyes focused on the light beyond when he first heard the voice._

_Its familiarity intrigued him, its pull just strong enough for him to stop his progress and turn back, contemplating a return to the earthly realm._

_Who was calling to him?  Even more puzzling, who confessed their need of him? There was no mate to mourn the loss of him, no wife or family to grieve his passing. _

_Torn between the lure of eternal peace and solving the mystery of the voice who spoke to him now, commanding his attention, Nabil hesitated.  He glanced back at the warm beckoning light, instinctively knowing his mother waited there for him.  _

_Mirah._

_One hidden corner of his heart yearned for her embrace, a boyish craving.  _

_Nabil turned back towards the voice, towards reality and the pain that waited there for him, circling his body like a vulture that waited to strike down on him from the heavens.  To return would mean to subject himself to its razor sharp bite and resume the war that had been waging for control over his body._

_Love._

_The voice spoke of love and Nabil blinked in surprise.  Vague memories of an oval face surrounded by golden hair, eyes alluring as the desert sky above infiltrated Nabil's mind and he suddenly knew the identity of it.  _

_Olivia._

_Another hidden part of his heart yearned for her touch, to know her taste and scent.  A man's desire.  _

_Nabil turned away from the light and responded to the quiet plea in her voice.  She wanted to learn of him and trusted him with her secrets.  Memories of the day at the pier surfaced, followed by her foolish act that following night as she had gently tended to his wound.  Somehow the role of the protector had been reversed and the next day she had made a promise not to fail in keeping him safe._

_He took a step forwards then another, one foot placed in front of the other as he caved into the yearning of his soul; to allow another into his heart.  He followed the sound of her voice as if it were a beacon of hope, a guide for the path in which he traveled back to his body. _

_"Please live for me." Nabil heard her whisper and he responded the only way he knew how at the moment.  He continued walking away from the light, vaguely aware of a sigh of acceptance behind him.  _

_It seemed Mirah was pleased with her son's decision._

~*~

Author's note – heck I forgot the translations for chapter 15.  When Asiya speaks to Ardeth about her love, "Inta malak ya maHabbi, ya warrior," it means you have my love, my warrior.  

I also want to thank you all for reading and reviewing Hero's 4.   All of you have inspired me to continue writing, thinking and of course posting the continuing adventures of Ardeth and company that will go into Hero's 5.  It's late right now and I could babble on for a more sentences but I won't do that to all of you….yet.  LOL For now all I ask is that you consider my thanks most heartfelt and appreciated.  Onwards to the next chapter where I get to introduce some new warriors for your inspection……be nice.  LOL     


	18. A time of dreams, of farewells and of wa...

Chapter 17 

_"Three lyres. One sun in the east. The image of grace in my two eyes. One glad body. A day. The wind which moves the boats, moves them. The strident sun is walking through a field of stars. The beautiful one is singing in two halves of the sky. A child speaks. An old man nods and dreams. The people have come from their houses to sit in doorways to sniff the air._

_O sun. O Ra. Osiris risen. O child climbing along mother's back, laughing. Two men in a bark boat, rowing, stop to hear your mother singing. Maat at the double season. Strident sun in heaven."_

_Excerpt from The Egyptian Book of the Dead called "Ra Rising"_

_~*~_

Morning.

It was the start of a new day, the eternal ebb and flow in the passing of time marked with the ceaseless cycle of sunriseand sunset.  It may have been written by scholars or other wise men that the beginning of a new day held optimism and hope.  It offered the chance for redemption, renewal and rebirth.  And the opportunity to rectify errors from the previous day.

For Rick, it held no such promise or power but he hoped it could wash away the images that were still fresh in his mind from his dream the night before.  

The nightmare had caught him unaware.  ****

~*~

_Evy…Evelyn…woman, wife, friend…confidante…the love of his soul.  His equal.  Rick felt her fear, a thick tangible feeling that invaded his subconscious and prodded his body to rise and defend. His hands automatically reached for his guns that were ever present in the holsters by his sides but they came up empty.  His heart dropped in his chest…_

_She was in trouble._

_He saw that she held on to little Alex and cradled the baby's body against her own.  One of her hands cupped the back of his head as the distressed wails of his son pierced his heart with a sword-like sharpness.  Wordlessly she shook her head, eyes darting around for an advantage or escape.  The look of terror on her face brought Rick to his knees, crippling him as she seemed to be backing away from someone….or something. _

~*~

He stood outside the doorway of Quadamah's home, all too aware that his refusal of breaking the fast with the family probably breached some sort of social etiquette.  But he didn't care.  Sitting down to eat with the proud parents and their children would have made the dream all too real for him at the moment.  Almost ominous.  He had chosen to decline their offer and had stumbled outside.  The ache of missing his family almost hurt as much as the dull pain that persistently throbbed in his wounded shoulder.  

~*~

_Where the hell was Jonathan and why wasn't he there to protect his sister and nephew?  The guilt Rick felt for leaving more potent because he was not… Evy's back was pressed against one wall, her body twisted so that she would take the full impact of the strike and not her child.  Anything to save her child…_

_Rick saw a shadowed form hover over his wife, its arm raised in the air and its weapon poised over her head, ready for the kill.  He broke through the immobility that had frozen his body and lunged forward, reaching out with his hands.  He tried to deflect the blow and shield his precious family. His body sailed through the air but never landed, his hands always reaching but never grasping._

_Oh God he had failed and the death screams of Evy and Alex echoed in his mind over and over and…_

_~*~_

Gulping in large draughtsof the cool morning air, Rick shoved a hand through his rumpled hair and swung his gaze around the tranquil and sleepy village. Nature had drawn out her palette of colors and painted the morning sky with colors of blue, lavender, light oranges and pinks. The sun slowly climbed up into the changing heavens, its golden color intensifying as night finally gave way to day, dark yielding to light.  A mist that had rolled in sometime during the early morning hours gradually dissipated as the heat from the sun grew stronger.  In some areas it obstinately clung to the low ground with long, finger-like tendrils but those were suddenly disrupted by errant drafts of air.  Something was coming.****

Muffled sounds of movement made Rick step away from the building and he curiously peered down one street, squinting his eyes at the dark objects that moved gradually towards him.

On silent feet, the apparitions took on shape and substance, merging into the solid forms of warriors as they passed by Quadamah's home.  They were gathering in the main square to prepare and ride out for the battle against Jahm and his army.  They were ready for war.  Every so often a warrior would give a nod of respect to Rick who wordlessly watched the procession, the act in itself not lost on the ex-legionnaireas the seemingly endless black stream of men paraded by him.

He was tempted to join them, needing to latch onto the now familiar desire for retribution that lingered over Ardeth's death.  Anything to make him forget the image of Evy's frightened face in his mind's eye and help him purge his anger.  He took a step forward but was stopped by a steaming glass of dark liquid held under his nose.  He looked up to find Quadamah offering it to him, a knowing smile on his face.  

"Morning," he mumbled and shoved a hand through his rumpled hair again.  "What's this?"

"SabaaH in-nuur.  This is qahwi or coffee," Quadamah replied.  "It was Yasmine's idea to try and duplicate this beverage for you.  Although the consumption of coffee has been existence since the 13th century, my people actually prefer tea.  To please you she experimented with coffee berries last night although I cannot vouch on the strength."

Rick eyed the cup suspiciously, thinking it looked more like thick dark motor oil and tentatively, he stuck his pinky in to test.  "Coffee, eh?" he murmured and looked up to find Quadamah staring at him expectantly.  Not wanting to disappoint the warrior's wife with another refusal, Rick held his breath and took a healthy swallow.  

"Is it good? Aiwa" Quadamah asked.  

It took a few moments before Rick recovered enough to answer, his mouth not yet fully functional as it reacted to the taste of the potent brew.  He smiled weakly at the warrior and ignored the urge to spit out the coffee, instead offering a wobbly thumb's up sign.  

"Yeah, the best," he eventually replied.  ****

Quadamah grunted in approval and gestured for Rick to follow him down the road.  "Taiyib.  Rahimah has requested to change the bandages on your shoulder before we depart and I must meet the arriving commanders from the neighboring tribes near the Elder's building.  There have been some changes and an oversight I must correct," the warrior said.  

"No problem," Rick replied and soon found himself on the doorstep of a modest home.  He waited while Quadamah called out a greeting and then a moment later, Rahimah came out and gestured for him to come inside.    

Watching as the commander walked away and making certain the healer didn't catch his covert action, Rick nonchalantlypoured out the rest of the coffee by the side of the door before he walked inside.  

~*~

"You will need to take this," Asiya murmured and secured another small pouch onto the saddle bags of Ardeth's horse.  Ardeth watched with interest as her fingers deftly tied the leather bindings around the slightly bulky object and he couldn't help but wonder exactly what it contained.  

"And the contents of this pouch?" he asked and lifted one corner of its flap to peek inside.  The warm, pungent and earthy aroma of herbs assailed his senses and Ardeth was unable to hide the grimace on his face from the strong smell.  

"These are small bundles of special herbs I have gathered that should help prolong your ability to stay in the saddle.  They need to be ingested with water and should help ease the pain and stiffness since your leg is still not fully healed.  For the moment it is all I can offer since we both know that rest is not an alternative," Asiya sighed.  She continued to re-tie the threads, her concentration, it would seem, solely focused on the task at hand and not his impending departure.

"Ya huriyyahi," Ardeth murmured and gently cupped her chin.  He lifted up her face till their gazes met and held, the undercurrent of emotions flowing between them strong and deep.  "Granted you may have thought the level of intelligence varies from man to man but I thought last night we established the fact that I am not stupid."

Asiya's eyes widened at the teasing tone of Ardeth's voice.  "We did," she whispered.

"Then do you have doubts about my desire to return to you?  Or do you think I would dishonor my promise and break it?" Ardeth asked with a twinkle in his eyes.  

Asiya sighed and a delicate blush bloomed on her cheeks.  "Am I that obvious?"

Ardeth held back his laughter knowing Asiya's concern for his welfare was quite real.  The possibility of him being killed was an unspoken fear neither one of them wanted to express last night, or this morning when Ardeth woke up to find himself in Asiya's arms.  

_In her arms…he woke up and smelled the faint but distinct fragrance of flowers…awareness shifted away from the hazy comfort of his dreams to the very real sensation of being held against something warm and solid.  _

_In her arms…he had found an immeasurable amount of peace and comfort, thoughts and feelings he had long denied himself until now as hope resurfaced along with desire.  _

_In her arms…he willingly surrendered and lost himself, drowning in the alluring depths of her eyes as they stared wonderingly at one another._

_In her arms Ardeth had finally come home until reality rudely interceded…_

They avoided the topic, knowing all too well how easily this fledging and fragile love that was growing between them could be destroyed.

"La," Ardeth smiled and tenderly caressed Asiya's cheek.  "It has been far too long since I have had someone concerned for my safety.  It is a feeling that I have not realized I had missed until now."  He took her hands and raised them to his lips, gently pressing a sweet kiss on the knuckles.

Asiya's eyes widened and she unsuccessfully tried to hide her smile.  "Warrior, there are people watching us," she scolded lightly.

"Aiwa, Healer, there are," Ardeth replied, his eyes fastened on Asiya's mouth.  

"We will pray to Allah that you and Sued have a safe journey," Na'ima suddenly spoke up from Asiya's side and gave them a warm smile.  "It would seem all is balanced again." 

Ardeth reluctantly stepped away from Asiya and grasped the Na'ima's hands.  As he bowed over them, he offered his heartfelt thanks and gratitude for her care.  Is'af was next and Ardeth had to hide his laughter at the look of distrust on her face.  He reached for her hands to extend the same courtesy but she surprised him by refusing to offer them.

"Is'af?" Asiya prompted and Na'ima muttered "Oh for the love of Allah…"

Ardeth had a suspicion and he leaned forward, hands still extended.  "My knife rests securely in my boot and I remembered to wear pants.  Do you still not wish to say goodbye?" he whispered for her ears only.

Is'af's face broke into a reluctant smile but solemnly the little healer offered her farewell.  "May Allah watch over you and protect you, warrior" she said.  

"Shukran hilwa ukht," Ardeth replied just as solemnly.  

As the small procession of people crossed over to where the horses were tethered, Asiya and Na'ima supported most of Ardeth's weight as he struggled to walk.  No one commented on how painfully he limped.  A hush had fallen over the little group when they were suddenly confronted with watching the monumental task of Ardeth mounting.  

Gently disengaging himself from the two healers, Ardeth was never more keenly aware of his physical limitations than at this moment.  Stubborn male pride dictated he try and climb up into the saddle without help, but how could he accomplish this once ordinary task?  His leg was already shaking from the meager walk he had taken from the building to the corral.

Ardeth reached up and grabbed the pommel and at the same moment, took several deep breaths, bracing himself for the pain that would surely follow. 

~*~

"I cannot watch this, do something," Na'ima whispered to Asiya and turned her head.  

"What would you like me to do?" Asiya whispered back.  "To offer him assistance would be an insult.  During his recovery he needs to discover the boundaries of his strength on his own." 

"Then tell me when it is over," Na'ima replied and looked away.  

Asiya sighed and felt her heart constrict with empathy.  Abdul-Nassir had taught his students not only the vast knowledge needed for practicing medicine but also how to handle different types of patients, the warriors being the hardest to handle.  He had explained to his attentive students that not only didall warriors barely acknowledged pain; most did not accept weakness and refused to submit to sickness.   A tactful and wise healer should patiently wait until a warrior acknowledged their need for aid but not approach the subject unless the warrior asked for advice or assistance first.  

Asiya's mind frantically tried to think of a compromise as she watched Ardeth tentatively placed his foot in the stirrup, his jaw clenched against the pain.  

"Warrior?" Suddenly Is'af broke the building tension and everyone stared at her as she shyly approached Ardeth's side.  Quickly Ardeth let his leg drop and turned to greet the healer.  

"What in the name of Allah is she doing?" Na'ima murmured.

"I have no idea," replied Asiya and took a step forward to intervene if needed.

~*~

"…name is Nijm Zarik and I have owned him since he was a year old," Is'af stared up at Ardeth with an expectant look on her face.  

Baffled as to why Is'af felt it important to tell Ardeth the history of her ownership of the horse at this precise moment, he did however manage a small smile.  "I shall take good care of him and when I am able, I will send him back to his mistress safe and unharmed."

Is'af nodded, accepting Ardeth's promise then stepped closer.  "During the past several years I have found the need to teach him many tricks, since it is quite obvious that I am small in stature."

Ardeth gave a silent sigh for patience but urged the healer to continue with her story, "Go on."

Confident that it seemed she had Ardeth's undivided attention, Is'af started to list the commands Nijm Zarik knew and she started off with the most simplest of commands.  "Sa was the hardest to teach him, rah the easiest but there is one command he has learned quite well," Is'af stated quietly.  She stood near the horse's shoulder and gently touched him with her hand saying, "Raka."  

To everyone's amazement, Nijm Zarik tossed his head and extended one leg, bending the other one as he slowly lowered the front portion of his body to the ground until his muzzle almost touched the sand.  Is'af turned back to Ardeth with a small but triumphant smile.  "It is amazing how easy it is to climb into the saddle now," she said.

"Indeed," Ardeth replied.  He finally understood Is'af's intentions and gave a shaky sigh of relief a moment later when he was finally seated.  The pain had not been as excruciating as he had feared when he had lifted his injured leg and settled into the saddle.  He gathered the reins in one hand and held onto the pommel with the other, then nodded to Is'af for the command to rise. 

"Fauq Nijm," Is'af ordered and slowly the horse pushed himself to his feet.

Ardeth closed his eyes as he felt the withers and chest muscles of the horse's body tighten and respond until it was standing then opened them a moment later when he heard a small collective sigh ripple through the air.  His eyes caught worried Asiya's worried gaze and silently reassured her with a wan smile; there was some pain as his once dormant body was now called into use but overall it was manageable.  He gave her a slight nod and was rewarded with the slow smile that blossomed across her face.

Suddenly a loud metallic scraping noise filled the air as one of the sentries pushed open the wooden gate to the compound.  Startled, Nijm Zarik lunged forward and the unexpected movement threw Ardeth off balance. He immediately tried to compensate and used both legs to steady himself in the saddle and calm the horse down.  

His entire being focused on controlling and finally mastering the horse, Ardeth wasn't surprised when he felt the burning sensation in his thigh increase until the inevitable happened - the carefully sewn stitches on his arrow wound ripped open.  He clenched his teeth against the pain and hid the discovery, bringing Nijm Zarik back to where Sued waited with the others.  

Asiya rushed over to his side and touched his good leg, the unspoken concern mingled with alarm reflected in her face.  "Warrior?" she whispered.  

Ardeth leaned down and with indescribable tenderness trailed his fingers down her cheek in a poignant silent gesture of farewell.  He saw the tears well up in Asiya's eyes as she captured his hand and placed a sweet kiss on the palm, their fingers then becoming briefly intertwined.    

"Return to me," Asiya murmured.  

Reluctantly Ardeth broke the contact and urged Nijm Zarik forward, turning slightly in the saddle to watch as Asiya, Na'ima and Is'af followed after them towards the gates.  Mingled calls of well wishes and prayers of "May Allah watch over and guide you" filled the air but Ardeth needed only to whisper one word of farewell to Asiya and he was certain that she had heard it despite the noise.

"Dayman," he whispered and nudged his horse into a gallop with Sued following closely behind.

~*~

Allan knew he was behaving like a petulant child but he didn't care.  

The journey to Sedment el-Gebel was horrendous, hot and dirty.  No amount of wiping his face down with a damp handkerchief would ever rid him of the gritty taste of sand that seemed determined to fill every orifice, crack and opening on his body.  He knew he was rapidly depleting his ration of water and his actions were earning him looks of reproach from the other soldiers but at the moment, all that mattered to Allan was the most important thing - his comfort.  

"Excuse me sir," a young blond, blue-eyed solider rode up to the side of Allan's horse.  "I noticed your trouble with the sand and all.  Thought you might want to try and fashion a turban of some sort with a face covering.  Like the one I'm wearing.  I had a real live Bedouin teach me once and I've been using it ever since, I have."   

"How lucky for you," Allan snorted indifferently and guided his horse away from the eager and helpful soldier.  He threaded his way through the column until he came abreast of Captain Mallory's horse, a fresh complaint ready to spring forth from his dry and chapped lips.

"Mr. Merriweather," Thomas greeted him with a certain amount of ill concealed annoyance Allan noticed but he shrugged it off.  "What is it now?"

"I would like to know when we can stop and rest," Allan almost whined.  "We've been riding for most of the morning, it's too damn hot and I'm getting hungry."

Instead of answering, Thomas reached into his saddlebag and withdrew a small foil wrapped object, then tossed it at Allan.  "Consider this lunch and be glad you're getting it," he said.

Allan snorted with disbelief.  "I don't suppose you would happen to have a flask of brandy hidden in the deep pockets of your wondrous knapsack, would you old boy?  I need something to wash down this God-awful hard tack."

"Then use up the last swallow of your water, why don't you?" Thomas suggested dryly.  "God knows you have been wasting it all morning long with your incessant need to…"

Before Allan could reply, suddenly the Lieutenant called out.  "Sir! A rider to the south." Thomas turned in his saddle and reached for his binoculars, then silently watched as the lone rider proceeded to disappear over the horizon. 

"What do you make of that, sir?" the Lieutenant asked.  "Strange that he would be riding alone in the desert, don't you think?"

"Indeed but I see no reason for concern," Thomas concluded.  "It would seem his destination is perhaps farther west than ours.  Tell the men we shall proceed as usual and should make Sedment within the next few hours."

"Very good, sir," the Lieutenant nodded and galloped down the column.

"Thank God," Allan breathed and ignored the icy stare of reprimand he received from Thomas.

~*~

_It has been written that an Arabian horse had forty whorls in the hair on its body, to twelve of which good or bad fortune was attached.  The whorl between the ears, of the crown-piece of the bridle:  swiftness in races.  _

_Chestnut:  the swiftest, best horses were chestnuts, they were the winners of races.  This was the color of horse the Prophet loved and when a chestnut horse flew under the sun, he was the wind incarnate._

_This anecdote was told about a famous stallion: one day his rider was upon him, wandering thirsty across the desert when they saw a flight of desert partridge winging toward a spring. They followed, and the stallion reached the stream at the same moment as the flying birds - an extraordinary feat, for the flight of the partridge is swift; and even swifter is the flight of a thirsty partridge hurrying to water.___

_"Horses of the __Sahara__" by General E Daumas (first published in 1850) _

Maroud bent low over the horse's neck and molded his body to its form, providing very little resistance to the wind as he raced across the sands.  The messenger carried important news to his leader Jahm and praise Allah he had been fortunate enough to have been sold the fine Arabian stallion he rode.  He had been able to avoid detection and once past the outskirts of Cairo, he gave free rein to Shirib min il Hawa, knowing the horse would live up to his namesake and heritage.

The tribes of the Medjai were amassing along the borders of the Nile and he feverently hoped to reach Jahm's encampment in time to warn them of the pending attack.  

He must warn Jahm that the Medjai were riding for war!

~*~

"Try not to get your bandage wet or that will wash away the salve," Rahimah instructed.  

"Yes ma'am," Rick joked as he watched her quickly and efficiently tied the ends of the new bandage together.

"If you feel the slightest pain or discomfort, I want you to try and rest," Rahimah continued her instructions, failing to see the tolerant and somewhat humorous grin on Rick's face.  

"Yes ma'am," Rick answered nevertheless although he silently doubted he would be resting much on the march to the enemy's camp.

The healer gathered up her supplies and Rick thought she was about to add on to her growing list of do's and don'ts as she carried them over to a nearby table.

"I must also ask something of you," Rahimah asked quietly but seemed unable to face Rick at the moment.  

He thought the behavior odd considering how comfortable he thought they both were with each other and was confused over the change in her behavior.  "You need to ask me something?" he asked as he buttoned up his shirt. 

"Aiwa," Rahimah replied and turned around, looking down at her hands clasped tightly together.  "I must confess there is a duel reason why I asked Quadamah to bring you here one last time before you leave."

Rick raised an eyebrow in surprise over what seemed a confession.  "And that would be?"

Rahimah hesitated.  "It is not proper for a maiden to approach a man with the intention of asking for a favor," she started to explain.  "Men do not approach a maiden unless for the purpose of marriage and once the parents approve and dowry accepted, then the courtship would commence."

"Ok, I'm with you," Rick said.  He briefly wondered what marriage within the Medjai society had to do with him but he was patient and waited for the healer to continue.

"I have nothing to offer you in exchange for this favor except a small bag of gold coins, of which I would gladly give," Rahimah rushed through her explanation and started to wring her hands.  "But he is…I mean I have known him since childhood and I am concerned."

Partial realization dawned on Rick's face and he confirmed it a moment later.  "I assume we're talking about Nabil?"

Rahimah nodded her head.  "He has become quite….dear to me.  I was hoping that once in the enemy's camp, you might look for Nabil to make sure he is safe.  I will give you all that I have…"

Rick tried to interrupt with a wave of his hands.  "There's no need."

"….I pray for his return and know that if you were to find him, you would…."

"Rahimah," Rick walked over to her and gently gripped her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake to stop her rambling and to gain her attention.  When she blinked up at him in surprise, he continued.  "I wish I could help you but I've been assigned to retrieving the chest.  Somehow I doubt I'll be doing much of anything else since this is what got Ardeth killed and Nabil captured in the first place.  Your commander has charged me with its care and I can't be…"

"Sabaah il-xeer," a male voice called out and effectively ended the conversation. 

~*~

Translations

Sabaah il-xeer – Good morning

SabaaH in-nuur – response to Good Morning

Taiyib – good

Ya huriyyahi – my angel

Shukran hilwa ukht – thank you sweet sister

Nijm Zarik – Shooting Star

Sa – hold

Rah – go

Raka – kneel

Fauq – up

Dayman – always

Shirib min il Hawa – Drinker of the Wind 

_Author's note – I thought to at least post part I of chapter 17 in silent appreciation to all of you who continue to read this and leave encouraging reviews or comments.  It would seem the fates have conspired against me not to finish this but as I've said before, I will always battle like a Medjai and ultimately win.  LOL  _

_I promised new character introductions and they are forthcoming…until then please enjoy this latest chapter and thanks again!_

_Oh and mucho hugs and kisses to Deana again, who as I've said before, inspires more than she realizes and for her astounding medical knowledge.  She's almost scary with it…LOL!    _


	19. Trust

Chapter 17 Part II

How does one learn to trust another?

When is it earned; is it given as a result of another's selfless thoughts and actions or in observing how they treat others?

Was it trust or desperation that prompted Olivia to accept Faris' help the night they fled from Jahm's encampment?  What made her believein a mere youth, a boy struggling to become a man despite his obvious physical limitations? What made her think that he could save them all from enslavement or worse, death? 

And yet…Olivia trusted Faris, its conception in the moment she took his hand and allowed him to guide her away from her temporary imprisonment.  Its growth continued as they journeyed through the night, a sense of confidence now accompanying it as Faris expertly guided them through what seemed to Olivia to be a barren and desolate land.

Olivia understood and accepted the need for a brief rest stop around mid-morning, the stifling heat of the desert depleting and almost crippling.  Faris had driven them to a small section of land near a large grouping of rocks and boulders, remnants of what was once perhaps a small range of mountains gradually worn away by time and sand.  The source of shade from the largest of the stones provided enough shelter from the brutal rays from the sun and ultimately, the small party came to a halt.

Given the chance to rest and replenish, Olivia gingerly climbed down from the wagon and tended to her own needs first.  She stretched, stifling a groan as her stiff muscles protested and pressed her hand against the small of her back, to relieve the dull throbbing ache.  Faris moved around to the back of the wagon and Olivia watched with a detached interest as he climbed in and crouched down by the warrior's side.  She had just reached for the water pouch when she saw the bright flash of metal and she lunged forward, racing towards the back of the wagon.  

_Olivia felt the first shards of uneasiness sliver into the fledgling trust of Faris when she saw his hand poised over the weeping wound on Nabil's shoulder, the tip of the blade ready to plunge into the angry red and swollen flesh._

"What are you doing?" she cried and scrambled onto the bed of the wagon.

Faris leaned away from Nabil and watched as Olivia crawled over to his side.  She saw his hand holding the dagger drop down but she ignored him for the moment and turned her attention back to Nabil.  She gently brushed her fingers across his forehead and felt her heart constrict with disappointment and fear; his fever had risen.  "Oh God," she almost moaned in denial.  "Hold on, Nabil.  Please…don't give up."

"The battle escalates," Faris quietly spoke up from Olivia's side.  "The poison within his body struggles for dominance and continues to wear down his will to live.  Our destination is still a few hours away.  We must take this opportunity and try to aid the warrior's body in fighting the infection from his injury," Faris replied.  "Examine the wound; it is red and inflamed, the contamination within making the skin swell.  You must release the pressure by making a few shallow cuts letting it drain…"

Olivia watched as Faris deftly flipped the dagger and presented it to her handle first.  "Yes I know what to do," Olivia replied and thought of the meager medical knowledge imparted to her from her father.  "But to actually cut into the flesh, I...I don't know if I can... I've never used a knife before.  Not like this."

"I will keep him immobile as much as possible although I doubt the warrior has the strength to struggle much," Faris continued and seemed impervious to Olivia's appalled expression.  "Time grows short.  Do you not wish for him to survive?"

_"Do you want to live?" Nabil had demanded harshly that day on the pier._

Silently Olivia took the dagger and ignored her trembling hand.  

_"Please live for me," she had whispered over and over, cradling his body in her arms the night before.  _

She crawled over to Nabil's other side and gently peeled back the robe, her eyes widening in astonishment when the tattoos on the warrior's chest were fully exposed.  "My word," Olivia whispered, her gaze greedily drinking in the sight of his muscled chest adorned with dark black Egyptian symbols.  How tempted she was to trace the beginning of them with the tip of one finger, following the flowing design and pattern as it meandered across caramel colored skin.  Once colored a healthy hue, now it was gradually losing its tone as the battle Faris had spoken of waged on; tiny red spikes of infection flowered out erratically from the bullet wound.   

"He is marked with the signs of his tribe," Faris stated.   He reached out and gently guided Olivia's hand to Nabil's shoulder, a silent and urgent reminder of what she must do.

"Do you know what they mean?" Olivia asked in a deceptively mild tone, as if inquiring about the weather or other mundane topics.  She took a deep breath and slowly inserted the dagger into Nabil's skin, grimacing at the slight resistance she felt.  

Faris leaned his weight down on Nabil's body as the warrior started to weakly move.  "The mark near the collarbone is the symbol of authority called 'Sekhem.'  This man holds a high station amongst his people."

Lips grimly set with determination, Olivia ignored the gasp of pain that slid past Nabil's lips and continued to probe the wound.  "Please continue," she whispered, body bent over the warrior's shoulder.

"There is 'Ieb' which means the heart and the tattoo directly underneath it is called 'Ka' or his spirit or soul.  The scarab actually stands for creation but among his people it is also known for good luck," Faris grunted as Nabil strained against him. 

"Just a few more incisions," Olivia murmured reassuringly, not certain if she uttered that for Nabil's comfort or for her own.  The last cut suddenly went deeper than she had intended and Nabil's eyes flew open, his gaze bright with fever and pain.  He arched his body, as if desperately trying to seek a way to escape the agony flaring up from his shoulder wound.  While Faris valiantly struggled to hold him down, Olivia dropped the bloodied dagger, mortified she had inflicted more damage.  She grabbed one of Nabil's flailing hands as tears welled up in her eyes, and held on until his sudden burst of strength quickly evaporated.  He sagged back down onto the wooden flooring, his eyes fluttering closed as a ragged sigh slipped past his lips.    

"You did nothing wrong," Faris' quiet tone wasn't accusatory or patronizing; it simply stated what he believed to be fact.  "While you may think otherwise, the wound now bleeds freely, allowing the infection a release.  There are some rags we can use to rebandage his shoulder."

Olivia could only manage a brief nod, too numb to think beyond the moment, too scared to think of the ramifications caused by her lack of skill.  She looked up in surprise when she felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder.

"In a way I envy your warrior.  There have been countless times when I had cried long into the endless nights, wishing there was someone to care and watch over me.  My leg would be whole and healthy, not deformed as it is now if I had someone like you as a protector," Faris stated gravely then turned away.

Olivia swallowed a small sob of sorrow and gently cradled Nabil's head in her lap, slowly bending down until their foreheads touched.  Silently the tears trickled down her cheeks and she whispered, "I am so sorry…so sorry.  At this moment, the last thing I feel is like a protector and more like a bumbling idiot.  Nabil, I am so very sorry I caused you more pain." 

She tenderly caressed his cheek, refusing to look over and acknowledge the ever widening patch of blood on his shoulder, a direct result from her clumsiness.  

A slight movement caused her to look down and she watched in amazement as Nabil's good hand slowly crept up and gently captured her hand.  He gave it a brief but weak squeeze before it fell from her grasp and rested on his chest.  Olivia's hand followed it down and covered it with her own, the significance of it not lost; they both rested over his heart.

Faris returned with the rags and eventually, Nabil was settled once more in Olivia's arms.  As he slapped the reins and the wagon lurched forward, Olivia felt like a new understanding had emerged between them; she felt sure of it.  It was one of quiet acceptance and understanding, of courage and compassion and most importantly of all - of trust. 

~*~

_Author's note:  Normally I don't do this but for some reason, I've been submitting this chapter in parts, I hope y'all don't mind.  I guess it's my way of keeping the story fresh in your minds as I frantically work on the next few scenes.  My weekends are usually spent writing and lately, they've been spent working instead, which stinks.  LOL So please bear with me as this chapter continues along and of course, thanks for reading and your patience._

_By the way, I listed a link below that has the definitions and what the Egyptian symbols look like on Nabil's chest; of course I wish I had a picture of Nabil's chest but hey… LOL_

http://members.aol.com/egyptart/symlst.html#am

**_Karri and _****_Aenigmatic_****_ aka vesania:  __Ask for update and ye shall receive.  ;-)  Vesnia, my MSN hates your ISP and my email bounced back again.  I'll try one more time…_**

**_Dawn:  __Thanks for the review and that reminds me, I gotta read and review your stories here on FF.  ;-)_**

**_Freakizimi_****_:  __I've wanted to thank you for reading but you don't sign in and I don't know your email address.  I'm glad I could make your day although this part of chapter 17 may not make you very happy.  By the way, did you see the link of __Land__ of __Dreams Ladybug__ posted a few reviews ago?  Hope that helped…_**

**_Marcher:  __Thank you kindly for the review and if anyone hasn't had a chance, go read her "Captain of His Soul" and her alt view (is that the right title? *sheepish grin* it's late here) stories, both excellent reading.  And in answer to your question, oh yes it was…oh yes indeedy it was.  Muwhahahahaha _**

**_Trudy Perry:  __Welcome and thanks for the review, now promise you won't hate me for this latest installment_**

**_Marxbros_****_:  __No need to apologize, I'm glad you enjoyed reading what I have so far…and since you've asked, here's more.  As for battle ideas, let me simmer some more thoughts around my head and I'll get back to you.  LOL_**

**_Ruse, Patty and Deana:  __I'm not used to doing this at the end of the story but always, thank you for reading.  __Ruse__, I believe I answered your horse question on a review of "Speak Softly" (go read it my friends, it rocks).  Patty, as for the fate of Nabil…life will go on for him, it's up to him how he chooses to live it.  And Deana, my own personal muse…love ya toots.  _**

_Special hugs and kisses to go my beta, JennLee who swears this part didn't need much tweaking.  You are too kind.  _

******__**


	20. New alliances, old hurts and the honor o...

Chapter 17 _conclusion_

Rick turned around and found a warrior standing behind them in the doorway.  His dark eyes assessed the situation yet the boyish dimpled grin on his face proved quite disarming.  

Rahimah returned the greeting as a blush infused her face and quickly made the introductions.  

"Ana ismee Jameel ibn Hisein," the warrior extended one hand in the traditional Medjai handshake, flashing another smile.  He kept the other dangling loosely by his side.  

"Yeah what you said," Rick replied but couldn't help grinning as they shook hands.  The curly haired warrior reminded him of someone but he couldn't quite figure out who.  "Except maybe change the last part to O'Connell."

"It is an honor to finally meet you.  The legend of your friendship with ya ukh Ardeth Bay has been told around many a campfire and hearth," Jameel replied.  His dark gaze glanced at Rahimah then swung back to Rick.  "However I wish our meeting could have been under different circumstances."

"So do I," Rick said.  

A moment of silence hung heavily in the air between the trio and for some reason Rick started to feel bad for Rahimah.  He wasn't sure how much Jameel had heard but judging by the look of discomfort on her face, it may have been too much.  She refused to look at either man, keeping her gaze averted while Jameel simply stared at Rick, as if expecting him to do something.

"Hey listen, I gotta get back to Quadamah's for my holster and guns," Rick broke the silence.  

"Why are you here, warrior?" Rahimah asked at the same moment.  "Do you need a healer?"

"I do, for I am grievously wounded," Jameel replied.  The seriousness of his tone was belied by the twinkle in his eyes.  He held up his hand; the skin between the index finger and thumb had a small crescent shaped cut oozing a trickle of blood down his palm.

"I should really go now," Rick spoke up again and glanced towards the door with longing.

"This is but a paltry wound," Rahimah gently chided as she briefly examined it.  A slight smile danced around the corners of her mouth.  "Surely a warrior of your stature can easily withstand this minor discomfort."

Rick swallowed a snort of laughter but kept his composure, suddenly enjoying the role of the reluctant witness to the verbal sparring.  Thoughts of leaving temporarily forgotten, he looked at Jameel and waited for the next volley.  Was it his imagination, or did Jameel seem attracted to Rahimah? He glanced at the healer and mentally assessed her physical appearance: the long dark hair neatly braided and hanging like a silken rope down her back, the heart-shaped face illuminated by her expressive eyes, the heritage of the Medjai predominately proclaimed through her demeanor and attire.  She was tall and looked as supple and pliant as a reed, yet Rick could sense a certain amount of internal strength.  He could easily understand how a patient could be drawn in by her gentle concern.  

"True, this is a minor discomfort but it hampers my grip on my weapon," Jameel responded, still holding up his hand.  "I do not wish to ride into battle with a disadvantage, no matter how insignificant."

"Of course," Rahimah sighed.  With a slight bow to Rick, she walked back to the table but Rick saw the flash of sorrow in her eyes.  And somehow he knew the innocent reference to the pending war had successfully deflated the earlier brief light-hearted moments. 

"Uh listen, I should be getting back to Quadamah," Rick broke the silence and walked towards the door, leaving the healer alone with the warrior.  "So if it's okay with Rahimah, I'll be on my merry way."

"Actually, Commander Quadamah sent me to retrieve you," Jameel stated, but his gaze watched Rahimah as she gathered her medical supplies.  "We are almost ready to depart."  He glanced at Rick then turned and stared back at the healer.  "May I have a moment of privacy, O'Connell?"

"No problem, I'll be waiting outside," Rick replied.  "Thanks for everything, Rahimah and as far as our earlier discussion, I'll do my best but I can't make any promises."

"Shukran," Rahimah murmured and turned around, nodding her head as the blush on her cheeks deepened.  "May Allah watch over you and keep you safe, O'Connell."

"I hope so," Rick replied with a slight smile then left the warrior and healer alone.  He stepped outside into the bright sunshine and stopped to reflect for a moment, the heat from the sun's rays warming his body.  He tiltedhis head back and closed his eyes, deciding that whatever course the events of next day or two would take, Rick felt more than ready to accept them and bend them to his favor.  Whether his actions were perceived as courageous or foolhardy, Rick didn't care; ultimately he was going to avenge the death of a man that he had not onlyconsidered a brother but also his only friend.  

"May God rest his soul," Rick murmured.  Suddenly the child that lurked inside Rick, raised in the Cairo orphanage, felt the unfamiliar pang of loneliness well up inside his heart.  For a momenthe feverently wished that Ardeth was still alive.

~*~

"By day's end, you need to remove the bandage and wash the cut," Rahimah instructed.  "Once clean, wrap it again and by tomorrow, the skin should have sealed shut, allowing you to hold your weapon with little or no pain."  While her concentration was focused on the task at hand, she was still more than aware of Jameel's intense scrutiny but chose to ignore it.  Just as she had chosen to ignore his subtle and discreet inquiries about her since his arrival at the tribe of the Fourth a few days ago.  Her friends, however, held no such compunction and gleefully told her of his activities, most likely happy that a courtship would soon blossom between warrior and healer.  Rahimah didn't care to listen to the inane chattering from her friends; she kept the secrets of her life guarded quite well and had successfully avoided any meetings with the warrior until now.       

"If I am able, I shall do so," Jameel said.  "Will you worry about me if I cannot follow your directions?"

The bold question caught Rahimah by surprise and she glanced up at him, uncertain if he was teasing or serious.  The dimpled grin he flashed at her was quite endearing and it took a moment for her to regain her equilibrium.  

"I will worry about all the warriors that are riding into war," Rahimah stated softly.  Finished with her task, she placed her tin of salve and bandages on the table, her heart aching as thoughts of another warrior flooded her mind.  

"You think of Commander al Fa'ud."

Without thinking, Rahimah responded.  "Aiwa," she said softly, then realized her error too late.  Slowly she turned around and faced the warrior.  "How did you know…"

Jameel shoved one hand through his unruly hair, unable to meet Rahimah's unwavering gaze.  "'I have heard stories from a few people in this village," he began half-heartedly.  "They were eager to appease my curiosity about the beautiful healer that seemed indifferent to my charms."    

"What kind of stories?" Rahimah was almost afraid to ask.  Her mind barely registered the compliment the warrior had just given her; had he called her beautiful?

Jameel hesitated then sighed.  "It is not right for me to repeat such idle gossip."

"Yet you listened and now, you feel brave enough to question me.  So in turn, I ask you…what stories?" 

"They talked about your love for Nabil, saying it is an unrequited one and it shall remain forever unfulfilled," Jameel replied.  "That you have rejected several respectable suitors in the hope that someday Nabil would ask for your father's permission…"

"Enough."

Jameel fell silent at the softly spoken command but only for a moment.  "SamaH ana, for I have unknowingly hurt you in my quest to understand why you rebuffed my interests," he said the last word with a sigh.  "Now I fear I have pushed you even further away from me rather than the opposite.  I truly meant no harm."

"It is too late to rescind your words warrior," Rahimah said sadly and wrapped her arms around her waist, fighting the overwhelming need to cry.  

"My timing is indeed poor and I have acted foolishly," Jameel said.  He fell silent, his face clearly showing his regret at the pain he had caused Rahimah, but she was unable to offer him any solace.  Not when her own heart had just shattered into a thousand pieces; the truth of her love for Nabil had been exposed, dissected and disregarded.    

"No more foolishlythan I to believe I was safe from the gossipmongers of this tribe and the false pretense of friendship that they had offered," Rahimah said.  

"Then what they say is true?" Jameel asked.

Rahimah nodded.  "I have loved Nabil for as long as I can remember; I have watched him grow through the awkward stages of youth into the early years of manhood, witnessed his induction into the warrior sect and treated his newly acquired tattoos in the days that followed.  I have known him all my life and yet at this moment, these precious memories seem like more than a lifetime ago."

"You asked if O'Connell would look for Nabil, aiwa?" Jameel suddenly asked.

Rahimah nodded.  "And I assume you heard the entire conversation between O'Connell and myself?"

Jameel's slight blush confirmed her suspicion but he continued, "Commander Quadamah made an oversight and neglected to honor the blood oath between Commander al Fa'ud and Honored Second al Usama.  The entire Tribe of the Fifth was ignored and to correct this error, Quadamah sent for Berin and designated him to be the one in charge to search for Nabil in the enemy's camp."

"I have no patience for understanding a blood oath between warriors, so ajab," Rahimah asked.  "Just tell me what this means?"

With a soft smile, Jameel reached out and gently laid a hand on Rahimah's shoulder.  "What I am trying to tell you, ya sitti, is to have hope.  There is no greater force that I know of than that of Berin, searching for his blood brother.  They say his grief was insurmountable when Nabil was taken prisoner and the sub-commander demands revenge.  When he rides into the enemy's camp, I think it would be appropriate we say a prayer for them."

"Berin will search for Nabil?"

"Undoubtedly, and may Allah take pity on those foolish enough to stand in his way."

"Why do you tell me these things?" Rahimah asked.   

Jameel looked down at his bandaged hand, nodded with satisfaction and turned away without responding.  Rahimah ran after him and stopped him before he reached the doorway.

"You have not answered my question," she gently reminded him.

Jameel gazed outside, his eyes seemingly focused on a distant point outside somewhere but his voice was low and commanding.  "In my old village, I too heard the stories about myself.  It seemed I had the reputation for being a stargazer, of which I do not dispute, and of being quite the accomplished lover.  It was said my adage was to find the soft willing arms of a woman and show her the wonders of the night sky." 

"Indeed," Rahimah raised one delicately arched eyebrow.  "Please continue."

Jameel shrugged.  "Just a few moments ago, I was struck by sudden inspiration and thought perhaps just once," he replied and looked down at Rahimah.  "With the help of Allah, perhaps I can make your story a reality instead of fodder for the gossips."

"Why would you do this for me?" Rahimah breathed her question, afraid to hope that the lonely future she had envisioned could change.  

"Call it a gift from an admirer who has now become a friend," Jameel smiled sadly.   

Tears gathered in Rahimah's eyes and she leaned forward, placing a light kiss on one tattooed cheek.  "I am most grateful, ya hulu sahib," she whispered in Jameel's ear.  "Go with Allah and may He watch over you and protect you."

Jameel surprised Rahimah with a tender caress to her cheek then abruptly he turned on his heel and with his robes briefly flaring out from the sides, he left.

~*~

"What did you just say?" Kasim asked.

"I said your little bird has flown," Loch-nah taunted Kasim with a sly smile.  "Like a dove freed from its gilded cage, she took flight with that crippled boy as her guide late last night.  Hand in hand, they continue to fly towards freedom and to what I believe to be the closest town, Sedment el-Gebel."

"This cannot be!" Kasim exclaimed and shoved a hand through his hair as he paced the interior of his tent.  "I had posted double the guards by her tent, made sure they changed every two hours…"

"Cease your whining and pathetic excuses," Loch-nah snapped.  He barely resisted the urge to slit the other man's throat and simply let the English woman's escape go unnoticed; her actions were of no consequence to his plans.  However he did intend to use Kasim's enthrallment with her, the key to bringing him one step closer to complete command of Jahm's army.  "Take a small group of men and go after her, unless of course you wish to inform Jahm of your mistake."

Kasim stopped moving as the color abruptly left his face.  "No..no," he stammered.  "I have no desire to bother Jahm with this insignificant matter that I can handle by myself."

"Indeed," Loch-nah purred, trying to control the malicious smile that danced around the corners of his mouth.  "Besides, how much distance can a mere woman and young boy cover while traveling in the hot desert?  If you leave now, I am most certain you will catch up to them in a few hours and be able to return to camp by nightfall.  Jahm will never know and I, being the good friend that I am, will not inform him but instead keep him distracted."

"You would do this for me?" Kasim asked suspiciously as he gathered his things.  

"Of course," Loch-nah replied with a sly grin.  "Are we not brothersin arms?  Loyal to each other until death?"

Kasim nodded his head.  "You are right, and I am most grateful for your help."

"Go now and capture your lady dove," Loch-nah urged as they left the tent and headed for the corral.  "I shall watch for your triumphant arrival later tonight, ensuring that Jahm is still blissfully unaware of what has transpired."

"And I shall enjoy teaching her an overdue lesson in obedience," Kasim declared menacingly as he signaled for five men to accompany him.  He mounted his horse and gave Loch-nah a nod of farewell then kicked the horse into a gallop.

"One last obstacle," Loch-nah murmured to himself as he watched the riders disappear over the horizon.  He turned back towards the tents, his dark and predatory gaze fixed on the largest tent of them all - Jahm's.

~*~

"Who the hell are those guys?" Rick grumbled to Jameel.  They were standing by their horses within the center of the village square, surrounded by a continually swelling sea of black as more warriors poured in.  Off to one side, he saw that several warriors surrounded Quadamah.  Judging by the repeated glances and gestures his way, he guessed he was the topic of conversation.  

"They are an escort," Jameel replied as he looked at Rick over the withers of his horse.  "Your escort."

Rick snorted with disbelief.  "You're kidding, right?  Look, I don't need any more nursemaids; what I need is to leave.  Just get the hell out of here.  And why the change in plans?  Quadamah told me Lu'ay and Tamim would help me get the chest."

Jameel slowly rubbed the velvety muzzle of his horse.  "I do not believe it is a matter of inadequate skills or lack of prowess in battle.  Rather, it is a blood oath that must be honored." 

"Okay, what in God's name is a blood oath?" Rick muttered.  He felt like a caged animal, yearning for freedom.  His body was tense with the anticipation of the coming battle, and the lack of activity was starting to get to him.  He needed something to occupy his mind, so he started to systematically check the chambers of his revolvers for the one hundredth time.   

"It is a pact between two warriors who have grown closer than brothers and have formed a rare but unique bond.  No matter what trials they may endure, their allegiance and loyalty will never be questioned; their friendship will last until their deaths.  Ardeth was a childhood friend of a great warrior named Kedar Ishaq, currently the Sub-commander of the Tribe of the First.  Kedar and Ardeth made a blood oath when they were young and now, Kedar has petitioned the Elders for it to be honored.  The Elders responded by assigning him to protect you, just as Zaki Hasim has drawn this duty as well."  Jameel explained.  

"This just keeps getting better and better," Rick sighed.  "Who is this...Zaki Hasim?"

"Loyal friend to Kedar and also of the Tribe of the First," Jameel replied and pointed to the large impressive warrior standing next to the sub-commander.  Zaki stood with his arms folded across his broad chest, his face expressionless but his eyes intently watching as the conversation between Quadamah and Kedar escalated.

Rick's gaze slid to each man that surrounded Quadamah, assessing their appearance and body language; it was a habit he carried over from his somewhat tarnished past, a talent that had saved his life on more than one occasion.  He observed the stiff, almost defiant posture of Kedar as he animatedly argued with Quadamah then the warrior turned and stared at Rick; a silent unspoken challenge emanating from their dark depths.  

"What the hell?" Rick muttered, raising an eyebrow in shock. 

"It would seem Kedar does not like you, O'Connell," Jameel speculated quietly.  "I would not be concerned…"

Rick shoved his guns into their holsters and glared at the warrior, mentally judging the physical aspects of the man:  tall, muscular, could have been considered handsome except the natural symmetry of his face was marred by a scar that slashed through his left eyebrow and down, ending just above a thick mustache.  "I'm not here to make new friends or win any popularity contests," Rick muttered.  "I'm here to finish what I started: getting the chest and taking it back to England.  I think it's time I remind Quadamah."

"Yaha," Jameel muttered but Rick didn't catch the rest of the warrior's exclamation; he was already approaching the group of warriors, his gaze centered on Kedar who now stood prepared to meet him.

"Are we ready yet?" Rick asked Quadamah, purposely ignoring the sub-commander.

"Inta iradi tawa ya amir, Kedar," Quadamah said.    

"SarSar," hissed Kedar as he stared angrily at Rick.

"Sahil, ya sahib," Zaki murmured and placed a hand on Kedar's shoulder.

"Excuse me? Uh, you guys want to talk in English here?" Rick asked.  

"Ana ismee Jericho ibn Sakhr," another warrior stepped forward and introduced himself to Rick. "I am from the Tribe of the Seventh, Honored Second to Commander Aliyy." 

Another introduction was made for the sub-commander of the Tribe of the Second but Rick didn't quite catch the name since it was interrupted by Kedar.

"Khansir," he spat at Rick.

"Does someone want to tell me what his problem is?" Rick asked anyone listening.  "'Cause whatever it is, it's getting on my nerves."

"Waqaf la-that wa tawa," Quadamah snapped at Kedar.

Kedar ignored the commander, shrugged off Zaki's hand from his shoulder and boldly faced Rick so that they stood toe to toe.  Rick saw his eyes were as black as night, felt the anger emanating off his body in hot waves but still had no idea why the warrior would be acting like this towards him.

"Qatil."  

The single word slid past Kedar's clenched teeth and hung precariously in the air, shocking the group into silence.  

His patience for this sport at an end, Rick met Kedar's unflinching stare.  "Okay pal, you want to play games with me?  Let's play.  Now tell me what you said in English."

"He called you a murderer," Jameel spoke up from the outskirts of the group and for his efforts was quickly silenced by a reprimand from Quadamah.

"QaT'a min zibala!" Kedar bellowed and shoved Rick.  "Son of a whore, you are not worthy to ride with the Medjai.  It is because of you we have lost so much; it was your accursed friendship with Ardeth that killed him, not the enemy."

Rick shoved Kedar back.  "My friendship?!?  You have no idea what you're talking about; it's because of that friendship that I'm standing here right now taking this crap from you."

"You, who could not be satisfied with finding the City of the Dead once but twice, bringing back the English infidels who resurrected the priest.  We should have killed you that night when we attacked your camp but Ardeth's command was to deliver a warning.  Ardeth was inclined to show mercy, something of which you have yet to demonstrate to my people.  Mercy from you would have been to leave Ardeth and the Medjai alone but like all ignorant Westerners, you persisted."  Kedar lunged at Rick but Zaki effortlessly caught him.  

"Is that what you people call friendship?" Rick charged at Kedar but found himself suddenly restrained.  "You who boast about brotherhood, loyalty and allegiance?  Hey pal, where were you that day on the pier?  I don't recall seeing your ugly face anywhere…"

"Ana iradi qatal inta fa'inn in azzar!" Kedar bellowed again and struggled to push himself away from Zaki.  

"Do you know what it was like to see Ardeth die?" Rick's anguished question effectively stopped the verbal sparring and he jerked himself free from the mysterious restraints.  "You wanna know what it felt like to see him fall, to run towards him as fast as possible but deep down in your heart, you already knew it was too late?"

Rick looked around at each warrior, unable to stop the torrent of sorrow that spilled from his lips.  "Do you wanna know how it felt to be beaten like an animal, and tied up?  Made to watch your friend risk his life just to save your own worthless hide? When you want to know all the details, you let me know and we'll talk. Until then save your judgments and accusations for somebody else, I don't feel like listening to them."

"He was my blood brother," Kedar stated hoarsely and to Rick, he suddenly looked defeated.  He shrugged off Zaki's hands but made no further threatening advances towards Rick.  

"Yeah, well, like it or not he was my friend.  And all I want to do is get the damn chest like I was supposed to in the first place because I'm honoring Ardeth's request.  If that doesn't please you, well tough shit, because it certainly makes me happy."  Rick stated angrily then turned to Quadamah.  "I'll be waiting over there with my horse until you guys figure out what you want to do."

Rick had only taken a few steps when he was suddenly confronted with what may have been the force that held him back from attacking Kedar.  The warrior who stood in his path could only be described as impressive and forbidding, his face covering adding to his grim façade.  What startled Rick more than the warrior's obvious height advantage was the melancholy aura that radiated from his dark eyes and the two of them silently stared at one another, each measuring the other.  Rick felt like his previous actions were being evaluated and considered then slowly, the warrior must have reached his own silent conclusions and gave a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement.  

Rick returned the gesture and walked back to Jameel, curious as to why he felt like he had just passed some sort of test.

"That was Honored Second al Usama," the curly haired warrior explained as they walked back to their horses.  "It would seem that not only does he honor the blood oath between himself and Nabil, but he has also paid homage to your declaration of friendship between you and Ardeth." 

"Yeah, whatever," was all Rick could say as he started to check the straps on the horse's saddle.  The look of anguish on Kedar's face haunted him, making him realize the impact from Ardeth's death still continued to spread out in a rippling effect.  The dull throbbing ache in his shoulder was nothing compared to the pain from the wounds that were suddenly ripped open on his heart from the confrontation.  Ill prepared to handle the ferocity of them, Rick retreated into a stony silence and tried to preoccupy his mind with more ordinary tasks.  He pulled out his guns and opened the chambers, already knowing each one had a bullet but unable to stop from doing what was a repetitive but comforting habit.  With a heavy sigh, he realized he was also unable to stop his hands from shaking as he performed the task.  

"O'Connell?" 

"Just leave it alone, Jameel," Rick replied.  He glanced over at the group of warriors around Quadamah and surmised they were still speaking about him; the occasional glance his way confirmed it.  "Just leave me alone," he murmured and stared defiantly back at the warriors.  

~*~

_"Hey pal, where were you that day on the pier?"_

The words echoed in Kedar's mind and heart, burning from the blaze of truth as he watched O'Connell walk away.  They were like a slap in the face; he should have been there.  He should have been taking care of Ardeth and honoring his oath but pressing duties at his tribe had dictated his course of actions.  Everything that was good and honorable in him wanted to scream out a denial and to blame O'Connell. It was much easier than to accept his own failing.   
Guilt.  The weight of it bore heavily down around him until he felt sick inside.  A hand landed on his shoulder. 

"What are you doing, Kedar?" asked a familiar voice.  "What is wrong with you?"  
He turned dark eyes filled with sorrow and pain towards Zaki.  "O'Connell is right.  I should have been there.  I could have prevented…"  
"Do not do this, ya saHib."  Zaki replied.  "Nobody can change the will of Allah.  You are not to blame any more than O'Connell."  
"Zaki is right," Quadamah added quietly.  "Do not torment yourself, Kedar, over things that should have been.  All your brothers know of your oath and honor it as well as the memory of Ardeth.  May Allah grant us victory over those who have taken away a friend, a fellow warrior... a brother."  
Kedar heard the wisdom of his friends but wanted to deny it; needing to blame someone... anyone!  His dark eyes flared with rage once more, his jaw tightened as his fists clenched, but suddenly it evaporated.  His shoulders slumped forward in defeat.  

"Do not lose the fire of your anger, Kedar.  Just redirect it towards those responsible." Zaki wisely advised and Kedar saw his golden eyes flash with his own fury.

Kedar nodded and glanced over at O'Connell.  Instead of seeing the infidel and enemy he once believed the American to be, now he saw the friend Ardeth had always spoken so highly of.  A quiet stillness settled within him.  His eyes narrowed, his face hardened into what Zaki commonly referred to as his 'death' mask.  "Qidir Allah warra raHmi fa'inn ana iradi ma mush."

A murmur of assent flowed around the group and Kedar saw Berin step forward, removing his face covering.  The two warriors exchanged greetings, silently acknowledging their combined loss of both a friend and commander.  Berin's face was impassive but his voice rumbled up from deep within his chest, sounding like the death toll of a bell, his eyes glittering with the promise of retribution.  "La raHmi."

The murmur grew louder as more warriors joined the small circle and Quadamah raised his hands up to Allah as if in supplication.  "The time has come for us to ride," he announced.  

The sound of thousands of scimitars being pulled free from their sheaths shattered the tranquility of the village; the hopeful innocence of morning was washed away as thousands of throats took up the same call.  

"La raHmi!"

"_My heart is with me, and it shall never come to pass that it be carried away. I am the Lord of Hearts, the slayer of the heart-case. I live in truth, I have my being therein. I am Horus, the Dweller in Hearts, I am in the Dweller in the body. I have life by my word, I will be the bringer of death by my sword.  May Allah take pity on those who shall suffer from my wrath!_" Quadamah shouted.

~*~

Rick watched in amazement as the square erupted into a melee of sight and sound.  Warriors wildly brandished their scimitars in the air, the refractions of sunlight glancing off bright metal almost blinding.  Somehow the men he had come to know over the past few days had swiftly morphed into alternate beings; the change was more than a little unsettling.  Their dark eyes gleamed with the fires of vengeance as they formed a circle around Quadamah, Kedar, Zaki and the others.  The common bond which they all shared as Medjai linked them together and its pull was irresistible to those around him.  

"Come O'Connell," Jameel called out over his shoulder as he drifted over and joined his brethren.

Yet Rick hesitated.  

_Foreigner._

_Infidel._

_Ignorant Westerner._

A rare insecurity swept over Rick and he felt the familiar sensation of being the outsider now more than ever.  He couldn't understand what they were shouting in Arabic but he did know they were honoring each other and the risk they were undertaking by initiating war.  During his days in the Legion, he and the members of his squad used to do something similar, especially before the battle with the Tuareg at Hamunaptra.

Lost in the memories of the past, Rick speculatively scratched his horse's forehead and was quite surprised when he first heard the call.  

"Ija O'Connell."

Rick looked up and around, wondering if it was his imagination or did someone say his name?  The circle of warriors around Quadamah pulsed with a life of its own and slowly, it broke apart to reveal the commanders and their subordinates staring at him expectantly.

"Ija waSal il dayri."

"Excuse me?" Rick called out.  "I don't understand."

"Ija waSal intu ikhwi."

Quadamah gestured for Rick to come forward and he took a hesitant step, only to stop when he saw what he felt was a reproachful glare from Kedar.  

A tense silence suddenly hung in the air, thick and tangible and Rick felt it settle around his shoulders like a heavy cloak.  Feeling as if all eyes were upon him, the usual cocky American was at a loss on what to do and he shook his head at Quadamah, hoping the commander would understand.

Kedar broke away from the circle and slowly walked through the narrow path that magically appeared through the crowd of warriors, stopping until he was only a few feet away from Rick.  "Come join us in the circle," he clarified quietly, his face bearing no malice or anger.  "Come join your brothers."

A curt reply spilled from Rick's mouth before he could stop it.  "So I'm a brother now, instead of your enemy?"

"You are someone whom I have misjudged.  My grief temporarily blinded me from rational thinking." Kedar held out his hand to Rick."Please allow me the chance to rectify my mistake.  There is much you and I need to discuss."

Rick pursed his lips and stared at the warrior's hand, realizing that the sub-commander must have swallowed a large amount of pride to approach him and admit that he had been wrong.  Keenly aware that his actions were being evaluated and maybe even judged, Rick walked up to Kedar but paused for the briefest of moments. He wondered if Kedar was sincere with his intentions or merely putting on a show for the other warriors.  But Rick saw the sincerity in those dark eyesand finally extended his hand in return.

The crowd of warriors around them erupted into shouts and battle cries when the two men clasped hands.  Rick pulled Kedar forward so he could be heard over the noise.  "You're right, there is a lot we need to discuss.  But remember:  I'm doing this for Ardeth."

The two men pulled away from one another and Kedar gave him abrief nod of acceptance.  

"I would not have it any other way," he replied.

With Kedar's firm and insistent guidance, Rick was led back to Quadamah and absorbed into the circle of warriors without question or complaint.  Hands occasionally touched him on the back or shoulder, as if this alone formed a true and lasting bond.  Others chose to acknowledge his presence with a nod and a battle cry that set his ears ringing.  He was surrounded by men who were willing to sacrifice their lives not only to perform their eternal duty as protectors of man but to also avenge the loss of one of their own.  To be included in the circle of warriors was a humbling experience and Rick felt his chest tighten with the emotion from it.  

"La raHmi!"

The cry was taken up again as Quadamah rallied the warriors and Rick had to turn to Kedar and satisfy his curiosity.  "What does that mean?" he had to shout to be heard.  

"No mercy," Kedar replied.  

"Sounds good to me.  Let's do this thing," Rick growled.

~*~

Translations –

Ana ismee – my name is

Ajab - please

Ya sitti – my lady

Ya hulu sahib – my sweet friend

Yaha - shit

Inta iradi tawa ya amir, Kedar - You will obey my command, Kedar

SarSar - cockroach 

Sahil, ya sahib - easy, my friend

Khansir - pig

Waqaf la-that wa tawa - Stand down and obey

Qatil - murderer

QaT'a min zibala - piece of garbage

Ana iradi qatal inta fa'inn in azzar - I will kill you for that insult 

Qidir Allah warra raHmi fa'inn ana iradi ma mush - May Allah show them mercy  
for I will not.

Ija waSal il dayri – come join the circle

Ija waSal into ikhwi – come join your brothers 

_A/N:  Quadamah's prayer/speech was actually taken from the Book of the Dead and no offense intended since I altered a few of the words to fit the scene. For those interested, here is the actual prayer:_

_[Nu, whose word is truth, saith]:- My heart is with me, and it shall never come to pass that it be carried away. I am the Lord of Hearts, the slayer of the heart-case. I live in truth, I have my being therein. I am Horus, the Dweller in Hearts, [I am] in the Dweller in the body. I have life by my word, my heart hath being. My heart-case shall not be snatched away from me, it shall not be wounded, it shall not be put in restraint if wounds are inflicted upon me. [If] one take possession of it I shall have my being in the body of my father Keb and in the body of my mother Nut. I have not done that which is held in abomination by the gods. I shall not suffer defeat [for] my word is truth._

_Hopefully I got all the translations, if not let me know and I can always add another A/N to the next chapter explaining them.  And finally! New warriors introduced and special thanks goes out to Ladybug for allowing me to play with her boys, Kedar Ishaq and Zaki Hasim.  Btw, their nicknames are "hulu waHsh" for Kedar and "Teddy Bear" for Zaki. LOL I can imagine those two blushing right now since I indulged that piece of information. _

_Last but never the least, thanks to all of you who read and review._  I base what's going to happen in the forthcoming chapters by your reactions and comments.  Thank you so very much and next chapter, I promise to give a shout out to all who faithfully read this...shukran!  ;-) __

_Ps- I don't understand the spacing on FF once I convert this thing to an HTML document so please bear with me.  _


	21. Legends born and the tides of fortune

Chapter 18

_"Dwell not upon thy weariness, thy strength shall be according to thy measure of desire."_

_Arabic proverb_

_~*~_

Sued was a senior member of the Medum helper sect.  For all of his adult life, he had lived for one purpose: to honor his oath taken as a helper and to assist the warrior sect whenever needed.  He had sacrificed much, giving no time or consideration to a wife or family as other helpers had done.  But the choice to dedicate his life was his own and if asked to make it again, he would gladly do so.  Sued had no regrets and when he reflected back on his many years of service, he considered himself to be quite fortunate.  

He had been given the chance to witness the birth of legends.

Stories were often told by one generation to the next; it was a favorite pastime of his people, keeping alive tradition and the memory of men who had given their lives.  Fathers would tell their sons about the glory of battle, how the Tuareg were easily defeated in the uprising of 1897 or how vigilant the Tribe of the Eighth would always be in protecting mankind from He That Shall Not Be Named.  Names were spoken in hushed and reverent tones, inspiring awe and admiration.  Deeds were recounted and sometimes embellished, making the warrior who had performed the heroic acts seem almost invincible.   

But when Sued met Ardeth Bay, he began to think that perhaps the stories were not embellished after all.   

In amazement, Sued watched as Ardeth gave little regard to his injury and masked any discomfort he may have felt with stoic indifference.  It seemed that Ardeth had firmly taken on the responsibility for finding the chest but Sued had to speculate:  at what cost?

The warrior must have already known the limits of his strength before they left the healer's compound earlier that morning; why else would he have set such a grueling and demanding pace?  They had ridden at a fast gallop for most of the day and Sued suspected Ardeth had hoped to cover as much distance as possible before he was unable to continue any further.

As the hours of the morning melted into the long, hot afternoon, Ardeth's horse slowly broke from its gallop to a trot until finally, it seemed the warrior was barely able to keep the animal at a steady walk.  Ardeth retreated deep within himself, and hardly spoke, the lines of his face deeply etched with pain.  His shoulders were hunched over and his hands were tangled in the horse's long mane as though this were a means to keep himself anchored in the saddle.  The brutal rays of the sun, combined with the oppressive desert heat, chipped away at the warrior's resolve and by late afternoon, Ardeth began swaying in the saddle.  

"With all due respect, Commander, you have to be the most stubborn yet courageous warrior I have ever met."  Sued hoped his unexpected comment would break through the haze of misery that had enveloped Ardeth over the past few hours, prompting a reaction.

Ardeth's laugh came out as a breathless wheeze.  "I am…not sure, was that a compliment?"

"An observation," Sued clarified, his eyes twinkling with subtle humor.  "I have had the honor of meeting and assisting many warriors during the course of my life.  I have observed more than a few who were too stubborn for their own good; their willfulness was almost their downfall."

Ardeth sighed.  "Do you always make it a habit to inform others of your observations?"

Sued watched as Ardeth shifted uncomfortably, closing his eyes briefly against the flare-up of pain that the movement had surely invoked.  "When I see it impeding their judgment, aiwa," Sued replied.  

Ardeth sighed again and looked at Sued, a rueful smile on his face.  "I seem to have this distinct habit of late in finding people who speak the truth to me, no matter how unpleasant it may be."  

"Then I would consider you a fortunate man," Sued said.  

Suddenly Ardeth's horse missed a step in the deep sand and the animal immediately compensated for the shift in its weight, drawing forth a deep groan of pain from the warrior.  Alarmed, Sued watched as Ardeth's body slumped forward, his head almost touching the horse's neck as his hands grasped and released their tenacious hold over and over.  Finally they came to a rest, once again tightly entangled in the horse's mane and slowly Ardeth sat up, exhaling noisily.  

The question "Why do you do this?" was ready to tumble from Sued's lips but he already knew the answer to his redundant question.  An oath, whether taken when inducted into the warrior or helper sect, was meant to be honored; the sacrifice of one's life was often the price paid.  As a commander of the Medjai, as a respected warrior, and as a man, Ardeth would always do what was in his power to rectify his mistakes.  

_"…knowing that I shall find only torment and never rest if my vows are broken through action or inaction and I seek not to right my wrongs."_  

They rode in silence for a few minutes until Ardeth pulled his horse to a stop. Sued was surprised, certain that the warrior would have tried to endure a few more hours of riding.  "Commander?" he asked.

"I would also consider…myself an intelligent man," Ardeth murmured hoarsely, a ghost of a smile dancing around the corners of his mouth.  "We should stop and rest.  Granted I am known to be stubborn but I would not…wish to have the trait of willfulness added as well."

Sued laughed.  "Too late, ya sahib.  I am already thinking about the story I will tell my nieces and nephews about the great Ardeth Bay."

"I am…only a man," Ardeth stated quietly.  

Sued shook his head.  "La, you are a warrior.  One of extraordinary courage whose tale shall be told many times over by the generations to come. I am honored to be your helper."

Ardeth lapsed into silence as they brought their horses to a stop.  Sued decided to set up a temporary camp near the base of a large dune and under his watchful eye, Ardeth used the commands Is'af had taught him to dismount. When Ardeth lingered far too long resting against the side of the saddle, Sued felt apprehensive; had he misjudged Ardeth's capacity to travel?  

"Commander?" Sued called out. 

Ardeth's response was to take a few staggering steps before he collapsed to the ground.     

Uttering a string of curses, Sued rushed to Ardeth's side and found him conscious but obviously weak and exhausted.  

For the next hour, Sued worked quickly to set up the camp.  Ardeth was brought inside the tent, made as comfortable as possible and ordered to drink a large quantity of water mixed with Asiya's herbs while Sued checked the warrior's thigh wound.  Ardeth's weak attempts to stop Sued from checking the torn stitches were met with a firm resistance and eventually, he stopped struggling.

"Stubborn warrior," Sued chided gently as he wrapped Ardeth's thigh with a temporary bandage.  He looked up to find Ardeth staring at him with a weariness in his eyes but a lopsided grin.

"Aiwa…I am," Ardeth whispered weakly as his eyes fluttered shut.  

~*~

Olivia was hot, tired, and dirty.  

Her dress was ruined, permanently stained with blood and caked with dirt, and her hair was a tangled, lumpy braid that hung limply down her back.  Her shoes, purchased in England and considered to be very fashionable, had died a swift death and her stockings were riddled with various holes of all shapes and sizes.  She wanted to take a nice, long, hot bath, scrub herself from head to toe and then crawl between cool cotton sheets and sleep for at least a week.  

Olivia wanted to do a lot of things once they reached Sedment el-Gebel but at the moment, none of these creature comforts mattered.  

Not if she couldn't share them with Nabil.

For the past four hours her entire being had remained focused on the man she had been gently cradling in her arms.  While his dark head nestled intimately on her chest, his face pressed into her neck, Olivia offered prayer after prayer to God as she felt the waves of heat radiating off of Nabil's body.  It was a simple, direct litany that came from her heart.  "Please God, let him live.  Please."  Her hand rested on Nabil's good shoulder then reached upward, to lightly cup his tattooed cheek.  "Hold on, warrior…it's not much further now.  Don't give up."  

Lost in the battle to keep Nabil alive, Olivia was more than startled to hear Faris' sudden announcement.

"Riders coming this way," he called out.  

As the wagon started to slow down, Olivia tried to carefully extract Nabil from her arms and climb up to see but something hindered her movements.  With a startled yelp she fell back and in the process, jostled Nabil's wounded shoulder.  "Oh God, I'm sorry," she whispered to the warrior as a low moan of pain slipped through his lips.  She grazed her knuckles across Nabil's feverish cheek, and then looked up at Faris.  "Can you tell who they are?" she asked.

"Yes, soldiers from Fort Brydon," Faris replied and brought the wagon to a jarring halt.  "They are heading this way."

"We're rescued," Olivia exclaimed excitedly.  She bent down and cupped Nabil's face with both hands, tears brimming in her eyes.  "Did you hear that, my warrior?  We are rescued."

~*~

Allan had always considered himself to be quite fortunate. 

He had managed to graduate from college with mediocre grades, marry the daughter of a well respected and wealthy doctor, and was happily but carelessly depleting his wife's wealth without her knowledge.  Life had been good.  

He had even managed to capitalize on Olivia's abduction by asking her family to send money so he could help finance her rescue.  He had no intention of paying the good Captain Mallory because he had firmly believed his luck would hold out.  The chances of finding Olivia alive after three days in the desert were very unlikely and although he felt it a tad premature, Allan started making plans for his future as a widower.  His mood has been more than sour prior to arriving in Sedment el-Gebel, and he had waited with feigned patience as Captain Mallory questioned all of his informants.  With each negative response, each statement verifying that a woman matching Olivia's description had not been seen in the area, Allan felt his spirits began to soar.  He felt more than fortunate, he felt like he was the luckiest man alive.  They had left Sedment and continued to travel southeast for a few hours and during that time Allan had gladly submersed himself into his dreams of fame and fortune to alleviate the boredom.  

It all came crashing down when suddenly the solider who had been scouting ahead of the men called out, "Captain Mallory, wagon up ahead.  And I think I see a woman."

"No, it can't be," Allan cried out in dismay.  He caught the looks of surprise from the other soldiers and quickly added on, "Dear God, could that be my wife?"

"We'll know soon enough," Captain Mallory said and brought out his revolver.  He ordered for the men to charge and as the column surged forward, Allan was helpless to do anything but ride along with them.  Fortunately for him, no one heard his muttered curses that were lost into the wind as it whipped around him.

~*~

"I believe your skirt is caught on something," Faris said.  "I am going to try and pull you free."  He had climbed up on to the wagon bed and stood over Olivia, having gently pulled Nabil's weight off of her, and was diligently tugging on her one hand.  

"What's that noise?" Olivia asked.  She tugged on the fabric, all of her attention focused on remains of her tattered hemline caught in the wooden flooring of the wagon.  Blissfully unaware of the soldiers bearing down on them, she jerked her head up in surprise when suddenly a bullet landed with a solid "thunk" in the side of the wagon.  

"Whatever happens, take care of the warrior," Faris instructed ominously.  "Do not worry about me."

"Oh my God, why are they shooting at us?"  Olivia's question would forever remain unanswered as the material tore and she was pulled free.  She stood up in the wagon, turned to give Faris her thanks but the words died in her throat when she saw his body unexpectedly stiffen and topple off the wagon.  Her hand ripped from his, she watched in horror as his body fell and landed with a sickening thud on the ground.

Olivia screamed Faris' name, her anguished cry drowned out by the noise of the soldiers as they finally converged around the wagon.  She leaned over the side, tears streaming down her face as she reached down with one hand, refusing to believe the young boy who had risked so much was dead.  Gradually the world interceded upon her grief; sounds filtered through her shock and sorrow, rudely pulling her back to reality.

"Cease fire!  Damn it, cease fire!"

"Hold your fire!"

Olivia lifted her head and was amazed to see that the wagon had been surrounded by soldiers.  

"Mr. Merriweather, I must insist you hand over your weapon immediately," an officer angrily requested and Olivia watched with a detached interest as he waited for Allan to comply.

"Allan?" Olivia whispered in disbelief.  Yet her eyes were drawn back down to Faris' body and she watched in morbid fascination as the sand beneath him slowly turned red. 

"Really, Captain, I don't know why I should have to relinquish my weapon when anyone will be able to testify I was protecting my wife," Allan's calm reply made Olivia look up again and she watched him jump down from his horse.  He arrogantly twirled his weapon then shoved it into a concealed pocket in his coat.  "That savage had his hands all over her.  I was protecting what is rightly mine." 

"Allan," Olivia said his name like it was a curse.  He was the reason Faris was dead and the fury over his senseless death coursed through her body.  She carefully maneuvered around Nabil, and then jumped off the wagon.  Ignoring the curious stares coming from the soldiers, she advanced on her husband, her hands clenched into tight fists by her sides.

"Dr. Groves?  Take Private Bennings and check to see if the poor bastard is still alive," the officer commanded, ignoring Allan's reasoning.  "As for you, Mr. Merriweather, I strongly suggest…"

"Hello Allan," Olivia calmly said as she stood in front of him.  With a critical eye, her gaze swept over his appearance; from the top of his perfectly combed hair, over his almost neatly pressed clothes and down to his expensive boots.  Desperately, Olivia tried to dredge up some form of fondness for the man who was her husband but instead, she helplessly pictured him with black hair, gray eyes and crescent shaped tattoos that graced both cheeks.  

"Well there's my girl," Allan purred and reached out to take Olivia's arm.  He seemed surprised when she stiffened against him and he leaned down to whisper in her ear.  "I know you have missed me, my love, and you may show your affection for me by kissing my cheek."

"I would sooner kiss a camel's ass," Olivia retorted and wrenched her arm free. 

"Olivia, what on earth are you doing?" Allan sputtered and grabbed it once more.  

"I am doing what should have been done a long time ago, my dear husband.  I am proclaiming my emancipation," she replied and pulled away from him.

"Have you gone mad?" Allan hissed and nervously glanced at the soldiers who still surrounded the wagon and intently watching them.  "I risked my life to come out in this blasted desert to rescue you and this is how you act?" 

"I should ask the same of you.  You killed an innocent boy," Olivia snapped.  

"I killed a heathen who was manhandling you and was trying to prevent you from escaping…"

"Faris rescued me from my abductors.  If you had given him half a chance to explain instead of shooting him and trying to impress everyone, we wouldn't be having this absurd conversation right now," Olivia said.  "You are a bumbling fool."

She never saw the blow coming; one moment she was glaring at Allan, the next moment her head rocked back from the force of his hand slapping her face.  Olivia was stunned into a temporary submission, almost reverting back to her old habits and behavior to placate Allan.  

Almost.

"Ungrateful bitch," Allan snarled.  

"Now see here, Merriweather, now is not the time to discipline your wife.  God only knows what she has been through…" the officer tried to interject a protest.

"Stay out of this!" Allan retorted and tried to grab Olivia's arms.   

It only took her a few seconds to remember all the trials she had been through over the past few days, the tests of internal strength and determination and she quickly recovered.  Pride at what she had become, awareness of her own unique power coupled with the knowledge that she was a survivor flowed through her body like a bolt of energy. It channeled down from her head to her arms and legs, making her body tingle and her fists curl.  Without thought, she drew back one hand and the energy pent up inside of her exploded with a solid punch to Allan's face.  She watched him backpedal, arms waving frantically for balance, before he toppled over and landed on his backside.

Ignoring the laughter coming from the men, she walked over to where her husband had propped himself on the ground and watched as he gingerly touched one bloody corner of his mouth.  

"As God as my witness, if you ever hit me again, I shall go and find my father's favorite scalpel.  And when you think you can finally relax, or when you're just about to drift off to sleep, I'll appear and show you exactly what he taught his daughter about using it," she coldly stated.  

"You _are mad," Allan scoffed.  He looked around the soldiers as if looking for support.  "Did you see what she did to me?"_

"Nice right hook, Mrs. Merriweather. Have ye ever watched the pugilists, per chance?" someone joked.     

"Aye, she took lessons," another man spoke up amidst the laughter.  

Olivia watched Allan scramble to his feet, his face red with embarrassment and as he menacingly advanced towards her, Olivia held her ground. 

~*~

A/N:  _sorry for the slow update, between working long hours and fighting bronchitis, these past few weeks have passed by in a haze.  As always, thanks so much for continuing to read this…my characters and I appreciate it.  As for the upcoming chapters, well the big battle is coming up soon and I've been studying a few techniques on how to write it.  I hope the next few chapters will live up to your expectations.  ;-) _ 

_Here's some shout outs:_

**_Dawn__:  Ask for an Ardeth and ye shall receive. I'm glad you liked my intros of the new guys. I gotta go read your story and have been waiting for FF to stop acting up tonight.  _**

**_Marxbros__:  I am soooo flattered you like my version of Rick and I've already worked out a rough draft of the reunion scene between Rick and Ardeth; I think you'll like it._**

**_Deana__:  Ah, my own little muse, like Dawn you asked for Ardeth and he's here, albeit a short scene.  Thanks so much for the endless medical information you always provide and for just chatting with me sometimes.  ;-)_**

**_Ladybug__: Glad you liked it and again, let me express how thrilled I am to be playing with your boys.  Heh heh ;-)_**

**_Ruse__:  hey there kiddo, I think I owe you a review or two, sorry I haven't been on FF in a while.  Glad you liked the previous chapter and I tried to follow your advice and post more soon, I'm just a few weeks late in doing it, that's all.  LOL_**

**_Ellbee__:  thanks for the review, very much.  If anyone is interested, she and Jennifer Lee have a story in the Lord of the Rings section that rocks.  I'm glad you liked this chapter and I gave the "boys" your message.  ;-)_**

**_Patty, Marcher and Serena__:  In__ answer to Marcher's question, no there is nothing set in stone between Nabil and Olivia but they have a few more trials to face…oops, won't say any more than that.  As always thanks for reading and letting me know how I'm doing on each chapter.  ;-)_**

**_Lula__: I see you coming in at chapter 18 and I'm glad you're around.  I hope life is treating you well and I look forward to more updates on your story, laws yes.  ;-) _**


	22. A promise kept, tales from around the ca...

Chapter 19

"There's nothing more we can do for him," Nathaniel sighed.  "Such a waste."  With a gentle hand, he closed the boy's sightless eyes and brushed the sand from one cheek, his fingertips dancing across the few sprinkled whiskers that would have evolved into a beard.  

"One less to worry about," Private Bennings stated indifferently and stood up.  "I'll go inform the Captain."

Nathaniel watched the young man walk away, appalled by his comment but not surprised.  Prejudice among his countrymen against the Egyptians was quite common, continually fueled by England's desire to regain its lost empire and Egypt's desire to be free.  Concluding that nothing will ever change between the two countries, he grabbed his medical pouch and started to climb to his feet only to be stopped by a low, guttural moan of pain.  

Startled, he glanced down at the dead boy in disbelief, certain his prognosis had been correct.   "What in God's name?" Nathaniel murmured and reached out to check for a pulse but then jerked his hand back when he heard the slight sound of wood creaking.  He watched in wide-eyed fascination as the wagon started to rock and he could hear something move painfully slow and laborious.  He scrambled to his knees just as hand shot up and gripped the edge of the wagon and as he slowly rose to his feet, he came face to face with what he would later describe as the devil himself.      

"Bloody hell," Nathaniel whispered.  "Captain, I think you need to see this," he called out as he clutched his pouch to his chest.  The clinical side of his mind automatically registered the unnaturally pale complexion of the man's face, the way he struggled to maintain consciousness and the small gasps of pain that accentuated almost every breath.  Theories about what appeared to be the man's rapidly deteriorating physical condition were temporarily pushed to the side as Nathan watched him prop himself against the side of the wagon, the knuckles on his hand turning white from his determined grip.  With a great amount of effort, the man focused on Nathaniel with a sudden burst of clarity and he found himself staring into warrior's gray colored eyes.  Nathaniel frowned for a moment, certain he had seen this unusual eye color before but before he could think any further on it, the man suddenly croaked, "…lazim musa 'adi…Olivia."   

Nathaniel shook his head.  "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"…musa 'adi Olivia," he whispered.  Drained of his strength, the man abruptly fell back into the wagon with a small cry of pain.  

That sound galvanized Nathaniel into action, and he ran around to the back of the wagon and climbed in.  Trained to assess and treat wounds on the battlefield, he was temporarily shocked into inaction when the overwhelming smell of blood assaulted his senses.  The metallic tang of it hung heavily in the air; the tacky substance had saturated the man's robes and Nathaniel lifted the heavy material looking for injuries.  He was thoroughly amazed that the man was still alive, even after it was apparent he had suffered a substantial blood loss from a bullet wound in the shoulder. 

"Easy now, I'm here to help," Nathaniel said softly to his stricken patient and knelt down by his side.  

~*~

"I have missed you, you know."  Allan stated softly.  

Olivia blinked in surprise at the change in Allan's demeanor.  "You have an odd way of showing it," she commented and watched with a perverse sense of glee as Allan's face became mottled with rage.  She was going to roast in hell for her sins: first hitting her husband and now goading him.  Was she really mad?

"And you have an odd way of showing your gratitude.  Now stop this nonsense and come with me, I'm taking you back to Cairo," Allan demanded impatiently and held out his hand.  

"No."  Olivia bit her chapped lips and suppressed a giggle when she saw the color drain from Allan's face.  "There's something I need to do, a promise I intend to keep."

"Something more important than being with your husband?" Allan asked incredulously.

"Captain, I think you need to see this."  

Olivia's attention was momentarily diverted away from replying to her husband and she was surprised to see that the doctor who had been taking care of Faris now in the back of the wagon, bending over Nabil.  "Yes," she called out over her shoulder and ran over to the wagon.

"Olivia!  You owe me an explanation!" Allan shouted after her, but Olivia didn't acknowledge it.  She scrambled up into the wagon just as the officer's horse had reached the other side.

Nabil was struggling weakly as the doctor gently probed his wound, his moans of pain more than she could bear and Olivia dropped to her knees by his side.She grabbed one hand and gently crooned to him, murmuring words of comfort that eventually quieted the warrior down.  She could feel the men staring at her, the weight of their unspoken questions hanging over her head like the sword of Damoclesbut none of that mattered now.  All that she cared about was Nabil finally getting the medical treatment he so desperately needed.

"Please…Dr. Groves, is it?  Please, help this man.  He…he saved my life," Olivia asked and looked up at the man kneeling next to her.  First impressions are usually lasting impressions, or so Olivia had always been told by her mother.  And despite the surprisingly youthful appearance of the doctor, Olivia knew he would do all that was in his power and skill to save the warrior.  

"Mrs. Merriweather, I am Captain Mallory from Fort Brydon," the officer introduced himself.  "We've been searching for you since your abduction from the Giza pier a few days ago."

"Yes and I am ever so grateful, you have my profound thanks.  But this is the man that saved my life that day," Olivia pointed down to Nabil.  "If not for him, I would not be alive at this moment."

"You had stated earlier that it was the boy who had rescued you from your kidnappers," Captain Mallory pointed out.  He leaned on the pommel of the saddle and watched as the doctor continued his examination.  

"They both helped me," Olivia clarified.  "I know I'm going to have to make a statement, but let me emphasize, this man is innocent of any wrongdoing.  Please believe me and help him."

Dr. Groves might have intentionally probed too deeply into Nabil's wound for suddenly, the warrior's body spasmed.  His eyes fluttered open as he weakly tried to move away from the new agony that must have been tormenting him; Olivia felt his hand tighten within her grasp and she leaned over him again, whispering words of encouragement.  

She watched as his gaze, so bright with fever and pain, glanced at both men.  

She heard a muttered oath of surprise come from the captain but thought nothing of it; she was more concerned at the tired, ragged sigh that escaped from Nabil's lips when he finally lost consciousness again.  

She felt a relief so profound as it surged through her body when the captain abruptly ordered for men to move out and return to Sedment, that she almost sagged down to the wooden flooring.  Someone climbed into the driver's seat and the wagon lurched forward.  

And she most likely made a mistake in not going back to speak with Allan, catching the intense look of hatred that flashed across his face as the wagon passed by. Instead, she looked back at the body of Faris, so callously ignored by the soldiers, and as the tears rolled down her face, Olivia silently bid her youthful champion a goodbye.

_"Good night sweet prince.  And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." _****

~*~

It was a reluctant compromise between Jahm and Loch-nah but one that would be mutually beneficial for both men.  Once Kasim had left the camp, Loch-nah continued to weave his intricate web of deceit to gain power, convincing Jahm that Kasim had deserted him.  The once-coveted position as second in command of Jahm's army was now Loch-nah's, but the mercenary wanted more.  And he would patiently wait until the opportunity arose to seize control.   The chest was his primary concern, but if leadership over these men would happen to also fall into his hands, Loch-nah would not be foolish and ignore it.  

As the afternoon wore on, a messenger rode in with the news that the Medjai were marching towards the camp, and his announcement started a flurry of activity. 

Rounds of ammunition were accounted for and given out, guards were doubled at each post and around the perimeter of the camp, holes were dug for camouflage.  Towards evening, the fate of the two commanders was discussed and much to Loch-nah's surprise and delight, Jahm gave him permission to deal with them accordingly.  It was a gift, the leader had stated.  Since he wasn't one to question this sudden generosity, Loch-nah walked towards their tent, his eyes gleaming malevolently as he slowly drew his sword from its scabbard.

For now, it was good to be second in command.

~*~

The first day's ride to the enemy's camp had been long, hot and exhausting.  

Although Rick didn't complain, his body's physical protests more than made up for any vocal ones.  When the order to halt and rest for the night came, he jumped down off his horse and held back a groan of pain.  His hand came up to his shoulder and he flexed it a few times, trying to ease some of the soreness.  He looked around, and was slightly amused to notice he was still surrounded by his "escort."   Kedar, Zaki, Jameel, and the others were quietly talking amongst themselves as they took care of their horses and hobbled the animals for the night.  He waited for Kedar, secretly pleased that during the day they had been able to talk, quietly building a friendship from the common bond of knowing Ardeth.  At first, Rick had decided to stay clear of the commander to keep the peace, but Kedar's commanding personality and obvious leadership skills overcame any doubts.  He was very personable, talking to Rick and answering his endless questions about growing up with Ardeth.  

As the men gathered around the campfire and ate their dinner, Rick couldn't help but ask another question.  "So," he said and pointed to Kedar's scar.  "What happened to the eye?"

Kedar laughed, most likely from his memories of when he and Ardeth had been but small children but suddenly, his laughter faded to a smile.  Gradually the smile caved into sadness and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and gruff - Rick could hear the mixture of amusement and sorrow as he relayed the tale.  "We were five years old at the time," he began, a far away look in his eyes.  "We were at Ardeth's parents' tent playing an old child's game called 'Warriors and Imhotep.'"

"Okay, and what is this game about?" Rick asked, a little confused.

"It would be much like your Westerners version of 'Cowboys and Indians'," he replied.

"Gotcha." Rick nodded his understanding.

"I was always bigger than Ardeth and so he quickly learned to take advantage of any situation and try to get the best of me," Kedar continued.  His smile returned and he chuckled.  "He had found his father's scimitar and had tried to wield it against me.  Ardeth's father entered the tent at that moment, but he wasn't quick enough.  The scimitar was too heavy for Ardeth and he lost control of it.  It came down hard and the tip of it sliced through my face - barely missing my eye."

"Ouch," Rick winced, as a morbid picture popped into his head of a young boy's face laid open by a scimitar.

Kedar surprised him by grinning.  "I bled profusely, and it scared the hell out of Ardeth, but I survived it.  I teased him for years after that, telling him he ruined my good looks."

The rest of the warriors had been listening to the tale and suddenly, Zaki snorted and shook his head.  The flames of the campfire danced in his golden-brown eyes, his smile a brilliant flash of white as it danced across his face.  "It certainly hasn't deterred any of the women from flocking to your side when we are visiting the brothels in Cairo," he commented good naturedly.

Rick raised an amused eyebrow as Kedar's grin widened into a huge smile.  "Ah yes, the women," he said and winked at Rick.  "I like to tell them I received the scar while battling some great evil-nearly sacrificing myself.  They feel sorry for me and always give me special attention."

"Do you like belly dancers?" Rick asked with a twinkle in his eyes.  "I've always had a fondness for them."

"Kedar has a fondness for anything in a skirt," Zaki laughed.  

The rest of the warriors joined in and Rick shook his head in amazement at how normal some of these warriors actually were.  If he looked past their eternal duty to protect mankind from the priest and guard the City of The Dead, he realized they had lives - they laughed, they loved, they were real.  "Why do I get the impression the two of you were a lot of trouble growing up?" Rick asked, hoping to hear more.

"Remind me to tell you about the time we uncovered a nest of Egyptian hornets," Kedar said.  "Now, that was trouble."

"Hornets?" Jameel sounded worried.  "Their stings are dangerous, are they not?"

"Where is Berin?" Zaki asked, looking around for the warrior.

"Did you have a blood brother growing up, O'Connell?" asked Kedar.

Rick shook his head.  "No, I was raised in an orphanage in Cairo. Ardeth is my only…he was…ah hell," he sighed.  "He was my best friend and I miss him a lot."

"As do I, ya saHib," Kedar said softly.  "As do I."

A brief silence fell over the group of warriors and Rick watched Zaki excuse himself from the group, then turned back to Kedar as he enthusiastically launched into another tall tale.  A few more warriors drifted over to the fire and Rick spent the rest of the evening listening to and enjoying the various stories.

~*~

Zaki found Berin sitting alone away from the group and sat down by his side, nudging him for attention.  "You must eat," he ordered and handed Berin a water pouch, some dried dates, goat cheese and flatbread.

He frowned when Berin barely acknowledged his presence and instead, kept his gaze focused out in the gathering twilight.  Astutely guessing Berin was thinking about his wife, Khalee, Zaki realized it had been eight months since her death, knowing her passing was still a fresh wound on Berin's heart.  He was worried the grief would consume his friend.

"I am not hungry."

"Then eat for Nabil, he will need not only your strength but the friendship that comes with it in the hours to come," Zaki urged.

Berin remained silent.

Zaki sighed and tried a different tactic.  "The sorrow…if you let it, it will linger like a shadow over your heart and block out the light.  I know for I still grieve over the loss of Sylvia.  While the scars on my back have healed, they are still a visible reminder of what happened to her; the memories sometimes…torment me.  The guilt in preventing her rape and murder often weighs heavily on my heart like a stone but I will not give into my grief.  Not when I have yet to extract my revenge."

Berin turned to look at Zaki and he saw the deep melancholy on the older warrior's eyes.  "I find I am growing…weary of fighting the pain in my heart.  The severity of it never lessens, and the memories of what happened that night will torture me until my death.  You speak of sorrow as a shadow, indeed my whole life has been cast into darkness and I find I am losing the will to struggle much longer."

"Do not give up," Zaki urged.  "Allah is most merciful and will find a way to bring you back into the light, but you must also want it.  You must help yourself.  Nabil needs you…we need you.  You may be able to turn your back on yourself, but what of your blood brother?  Can you desert him when he needs you the most?  Nabil took care of you after Khalee's death, and I heard from my tribal Elders that he discredited Rhyda's accusations that you interfered with the birth.  Will you repay Nabil's friendship by not honoring your oath?"

Berin gave a ragged sigh of surrender.  "La, I cannot."

"Then eat, gather your strength for the coming battle.  And know there is one who understands what it is like to continually battle the dark tide of sorrow," Zaki wisely stated.  He handed Berin the food again and nodded with satisfaction as the warrior slowly ate.  

~*~

Translations:

lazim musa 'adi – must help

~*~

_A/N – time for the shout outs.__ But before I get into them, I wish to thank anyone and everyone who has read this and will continue to read this, review or not.  Your emails are greatly appreciated and are sometimes, what keeps me going.  ;-)_

_Special thanks to Ladybug for helping me write her sweet beast, Kedar and of course, my beta Jenn Lee.  Love my beta.  ;-) _

**_Karri – __thanks for asking and aiwa, I am feeling better. Much better.  Hope you're doing well._**

**_Dawn – __Yep Ardeth is back and no, LOL, not in the greatest of shape.  You should know me by now; I do have a reputation to live up to as being the Evil One.  Hope you like this chapter as well.  ;-)_**

**_Lilybird_****_ – __Welcome to FF, my friend, and thanks for the reviews.  I'm glad you like Olivia and yes indeed, she has this new found strength that is both liberating and perhaps a tad frustrating.  _**

**_Marxbros – __It would appear the Allan getting punched in the face has been a hit [pun intended] but you know he has to retaliate.  C'mon, you know this…LOL  As for Nabil's fate, Olivia will take care of him with some unexpected help although it will not be easy.  _**

**_Deana – __"Widdle Ardy Poo"???  LOL!  Erm, I dare you to call him that to his face.  But I did as you had instructed, I posted more.  ;-)_**

**_Aenigmatic_****_ – __You have me blushing with your comments but update, geez woman, I am updating again.  How's that?  Take care and again, I'm sad to see your story has ended.  __L___**

**_Patty – __You trust me to bring Nabil back through that long, dark tunnel?  Ask and ye shall receive but the journey may be a long one.  As for poor Faris, sadly, he has departed.  Although in a future chapter, Nabil will honor his memory by…oops.  Said too much but what a lovely hint.  ;-)_**

**_Marcher – __That bullet was meant for Nabil, hmmmm, what an interesting idea.  ;-)  Glad you liked the chapter but I am sorry that Allan's name made you shudder.  Sorry but he's not going away any time soon._**

**_Ruse – __yesssss__ my precious, do send Gollum after me…oh wait, that wouldn't be good.  LOL  And by the way, I am feeling ever so much better, [insert Monty Python] I'm not dead yet.  Thankee kindly for reading.  _**

**_Lula – __My gawd woman, when you catch up on chapters, you catch up.  LOL  Laws yes and I am ever so grateful.  No apologies needed for being tardy, I think we've all been on occasion, I'm just glad you had a chance to read. And no, so everyone take note, you're not misreading Olivia's intentions.  She has fallen in love with Nabil but like you said, time will tell in seeing what happens for the two of them.  And having me make you hate Allan?  I'll take that as a compliment.  LOL  _**

_I think I caught everyone…~whew!~  LOL  _


	23. Down with the sickness, a goodbye and a ...

Chapter 20

_"We are soldiers. It is a great brotherhood, which adds something of**  
**the good-fellowship of the folk-song, of the feeling of solidarity of convicts,**  
**and of the desperate loyalty to one another of men condemned to death, to a**  
**condition of life arising out of the midst of danger, out of the tension and**  
**forlornness of death." **  
**Erich Maria Remarque - All Quiet on the Western Front****_

"it seems you're having some trouble

in dealing with these changes

living with these changes

the world is a scary place

now that you've woken up the demon in me

madness has now come over me"

Disturbed "Down with the Sickness"

_~*~_

On the second day of the Medjai's march to Jahm's camp, the mood of the warriors had inexplicably changed.  Rick was never quite certain when it had happened, but he could almost feel it; like a restless, prowling beast, it had overcome and quieted the men.  Gone were the moments of levity shared from the day before.  He was still surrounded by Kedar, Berin, Zaki and the rest of the warriors assigned to be his escort but even Jameel, who in Rick's opinion had seemed to be almost cheerful for a warrior, had become pensive and withdrawn.

Towards noon, the warriors came across some of the enemy's scouts who were trying to ascertain the size and strength of the Medjai.  Rick watched with morbid fascination as several of the warriors broke from the ranks and pursued the fleeing men, howling like a horde of demons.  The men were dispatched with a cold and precise execution; surrounded and consumed, they disappeared beneath the thundering hooves as the Medjai marched onwards.  

Rick wasn't sure what disturbed him more:  witnessing the savage ferocity displayed by the men he had come to know over the past few days or the fact that he felt a grim satisfaction that justice was finally being rendered.  

"Remember, ya sahib," Kedar said as he rode alongside of Rick.  "No mercy, for they would show you none." 

"Yeah, I know," Rick replied and lapsed into his own thoughts.  Suddenly he felt a stab of compassion for the faceless enemy they were riding out to meet, but it was quickly subdued.  Rick almost smiled at the prospect of the coming battle.  In response, he felt his blood surge through his veins, his heartbeat accelerated, and God help him, he was looking forward to getting his revenge.  

At dusk, the commanders called for a rest and Quadamah informed Rick they would use the cover of darkness and attack at midnight.  As camp was set up, no fires were allowed and an eerie stillness settled over the desert, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable clash of men.  The warriors said little, each lost in his own thoughts as they prepared their weapons, checked ammunition belts and cleaned rifles.  Rick dismounted and watched as some drew their scimitars, the blades whistling through the air as if in anticipation of the kill.  Others checked their horses, adjusted the bit and halter, shifted the saddle and hung loops of rope down one side.  Rick had wanted to ask why they had made that modification but before he had the chance to ask Kedar, Jericho interrupted his thoughts.  "Quadamah wants you to come along with the rest of the commanders.  From the reports we have received from our scouts during the day, we think it would be wise to ride ahead and see the layout of the camp for ourselves," Jericho said.  

"Right," Rick replied and climbed back up into the saddle.  He hid the grimace of pain he felt in his shoulder then pushed it down deep inside, next to the pain he still felt over the loss of Ardeth.  He felt himself sliding into the same madness that prevailed over the warriors and he embraced it, smiling grimly as he rode after Jericho.  

With the cold, pale silver orb of the moon as their constant companion, Rick and the warriors cautiously approached the enemy's camp from the northeast.  They dismounted a short distance away and crawled forward through the sand until they crested a large dune that overlooked the camp below.  Through hand signals and gestures, Rick and the warriors carefully noted every detail:  from the size of Jahm's army to the wagon that was suspiciously resting at the side of one tent.  Speculation that the chest was inside was noted and, deciding the reconnaissance was over, Quadamah indicated that they should return to camp.  

Once there, Rick dismounted and followed the warriors to where they were standing off to one side.  As they talked among themselves, Quadamah used the moonlight for illumination and drew a crude map in the sand.

"It has been decided that the Tribe of the Seventh will attack the camp from the northeast, and the Tribes of the Second and Fourth will simultaneously attack from the northwest and south.  Additional support will come from the Tribes of the First and Ninth; their marksmen will provide the cover we need when engaged in a full frontal charge.  The Tribes of the Tenth and Eleventh will wait for further instructions and as previously agreed, the Tribe of the Third will wait for O'Connell and the chest."

The warrior Rick recognized the sub-commander of the Tribe of the Second had a question, but eventually the meeting was concluded.  The warriors dispersed; each seemingly once again lost in his own thoughts.  

As Rick walked back to his horse, he found Jericho walking alongside him, and decided to take the opportunity to talk to the warrior.  Jericho for some odd reason reminded him of Ardeth; perhaps it was the same style of goatee that outlined his face or the quiet and concentrated gaze of his dark eyes.  He had taken off his turban and had pushed a hand through his short, cropped hair, the one defining characteristic that set him apart from most of the warriors Rick had seen.  

As Rick asked Jericho a few questions, he noticed the warrior's attention was focused on something over his shoulder.  Rick finally turned around, curious to see what had captured it.  "During such dark and trying times as these, Jameel manages to unintentionally remind us of the more innocent and harmless aspects of life," Jericho stated. 

Despite the anticipation of riding into upcoming battle, Rick watched with a grin as Jameel seemed to have no interest in performing the preparations that his brethren had done.  Rick turned to Jericho and felt compelled to ask, "What's he doing?"

"Jameel is doing what he has loved to do since he was a youth – gazing up at the stars," Jericho replied with a smile.  "He is heeding the call of our ancestors, using them as a guide and a source of comfort, always enchanted by their ethereal and timeless beauty."  Suddenly a shooting star streaked across the heavens.  Both men heard Jameel's exclamation of surprise and watched as he pointed out the spectacular sight to another warrior, who seemed to be patiently listening to Jameel's excited observations. 

"That is a good omen," Jericho stated quietly.  "Victory will be ours this night."

"I hope so," Rick said and leaned against his horse for a moment.  "I certainly hope so."

~*~

Patience was a virtue; at least that's what his sister had always said.  All good things come to those who wait; that was the philosophy he tried to apply when playing a game of cards.  Show no emotion, bluff your way through a bad hand and always hope that the tide of fortune will eventually turn in your favor.

So why did it feel like his bluff was being called now, and that the tide in his relationship with his nephew was about to change?  Why on earth did he feel this incessant pull to go see Alex and humbly introduce himself as his uncle?

"I have no bloody idea why," Jonathan whispered to himself and rubbed a hand over his face.  God, he smelled horrible:  a pungent combination of stale wine and cigar smoke that made his nose wrinkle in disgust.  And most likely he looked ghastly as well:  eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, his hair and clothes rumpled from too many nights spent at the gaming tables.  Since the baby's birth, Jonathan had studiously avoided all contact with mother and son, preferring to wallow in his own self-indulgence.  It was better to lose himself in a game of cards then admit that when he saw Evy holding Alex, he was envious.  And his own longings for a wife, a friend and lover, would momentarily flood his heart before he pushed them back down again.  Now was not the time for love, not when he had a fortune to win – at least that was what he told himself every night before going out.  Once he had managed to recoup some of the wealth he had lost to his gambling friends in the past year, maybe then he could turn his attention to other matters.   

And yet he stood, partially hidden in the doorway of the nursery and watched the tender scene before him with quiet contemplation.     

Jonathan heard Evy talking to Alex, her voice soft and sweet, as she reached down into the crib and tickled one of Alex's feet.  He couldn't help but smile from the immediate response as Alex's infectious laughter rang through the nursery.  Evy laughed with her son and would have continued the game but was interrupted when the maid walked through the adjacent doorway.

"Begging yer pardon, mum, but there's a man waiting in the parlor from the British Museum with a message fer ye," she said.

Evy looked surprised but informed the maid she would come down and finished getting Alex ready for his nap.  

Jonathan stepped backwards to conceal himself in case Evy walked towards him, but she followed the maid out and he breathed a sigh of relief.  A confrontation with Evy about his lifestyle was something Jonathan had no desire to engage in at the moment; he had something more important to do.  

Reverently, he walked inside the nursery and over to the crib, his nostrils flaring from the pleasant smell of talcum powder and of freshly washed clothes.  He stared at the little being his sister and Rick had created and when Alex looked up and greeted him with a toothless grin, Jonathan's heart was lost.

"Well hello, little man," Jonathan said quietly.  He leaned on the side of the crib and reached down with one finger to tenderly touch Alex's soft cheek.   "I think it's time you and I had a talk, don't you agree?" 

Alex blew his uncle a raspberry and waved one tiny fist in the air.  Jonathan couldn't help but laugh.  "I see you've most certainly inherited that trait from your mother."   

Darting a quick glance to both doorways to make certain he was alone, Jonathan began to slowly build the relationship between them that would make them more than just uncle and nephew:  it would make them friends.  

~*~

The second day of travel for Ardeth and Sued passed almost identically as the first with one minor complication.  In his haste to administer the herbs to help Ardeth the previous night, Sued had inadvertently given more than the dosage Asiya had measured into small bags.  The consequence caused Ardeth to sleep through the night and well into the following morning, the only movement coming from the steady rise and fall of his chest.  

By noon, Sued was frantically trying to wake the warrior, succeeding only after he splashed a small amount of water into Ardeth's face.  He fretted over the precious time lost as he helped Ardeth acclimate himself, and used any means to motivate him, ranging from threats to entreaties.  Sluggishly Ardeth responded, and finally they were ready to mount.

Sued helped Ardeth limp towards his horse but before they had reached the animal's side, Nijm Zarik regarded them for a moment with his gentle, brown eyes and then slowly lowered himself to the ground.  

"I assume that will be in your story?" Ardeth asked with a small smile.

Sued shifted the warrior's weight and helped him climb into the saddle.  "Of course," he replied with a grin but it slowly evaporated as his concerns resurfaced.  "We need to cover as much ground as possible today.  If we can keep up a steady pace, we should be able to reach el Gharbiya by nightfall."

"Then we shall keep a steady pace," Ardeth replied and gave the command for Nijm Zarik to rise.  

Sued watched him carefully, pleased to see the warrior able to keep his seat in the saddle with little difficulty and quickly mounted his own horse.  

"Honored Helper."

The formal address made Sued to look over at Ardeth in surprise but he replied with a slight nod of his head.  "Commander Bay."

"No matter what happens during the remainder of the day, we must keep traveling.  If I should fall behind or am unable to stay mounted, I ask that you take the necessary measures to ensure that I do not further hinder our progress.  We must reach our destination by nightfall," Ardeth stated firmly.

"I understand," Sued replied.  "And I will pray to Allah that such measures will prove to be unnecessary."

~*~

As Ardeth and Sued rode through the desert at a brisk pace, Ardeth carefully hid his exhaustion from the helper; to complain about it or his lack of focus seemed pointless.  He was certain he was still experiencing some of the side effects from Sued's inadvertent overdose.  He needed something to take his attention away from the monotonous and never-ending desert landscape.  Instead he used what was left of his meager concentration and sorted through the dream he had the night before, the images still vivid in his mind's eye.  He needed to understand…

~*~

_It started out as the same dream…those hands that always held him down, always forced him relive the horrific moments of when he lost his wife and child…of when his life had irrevocably changed.  Ardeth tensed, fought down the fear that knotted his stomach, and wanted to close his eyes to block out the images but…the hands that held him now were somehow different.  They still restrained him as they roughly pulled him off the ground. Rough, eager hands shoved him towards a tent and through the entrance…Ardeth lost his balance and would have fallen to his knees but then something strange happened…soft, gentle hands caught him and helped him to his feet.  _

_He blinked in surprise at the white, almost blinding light that filled the tent and as it slowly diminished, he found himself staring into the beautiful face of…_

_"Janan," Ardeth whispered hoarsely.  _

_She was as his heart will always remember her; the tender loving smile on her face, the dark curtain of her hair hanging around her body like a soft cloud, the gentleness of her touch as she reached out and caressed Ardeth's face.  Silently she beckoned him to her side and with one arm, she swept it across the expanse of the tent's interior._

_"Life will always have shadows and light," her sweet voice spoke inside Ardeth's head.  "One cannot exist without the other, it is part of the eternal balance of the universe.  When the scales in this balance are tipped one way or the other, you must try and find the equilibrium once again."_

_Ardeth looked to the four corners of the tent and saw that they were dark and gloomy; filled with shapeless, seething masses that emitted sounds of sorrow and despair, of hatred and intolerance.  The corner to his left was the largest and it slowly crept out towards him with long, tentacle-like fingers as if seeking to capture him; instinctively Ardeth took a step away from it.  He felt, rather than heard, Janan's sigh of approval a moment later and he turned back to the woman who once was his wife, his reason for living._

_"Your life now stands on a precipice, dancing along the knife's edge between what you once knew and what could be…you must choose your destiny.  Will you linger in the shadows, your whole life void of any warmth or love?" Janan asked and pointed to the other corners of the tent.  They suddenly came alive, showing scenes of loneliness and desolation.  "Or will you choose the light, to live a life filled with warmth from one woman's love, a woman who has helped you achieve the balance once again?"_

_Ardeth looked to the center of the tent and to his amazement, he saw the shape of Asiya take form.  She looked radiant and beautiful, the light of her soul making her countenance shine brightly and Ardeth felt his heart swell with pride.  She could be his…_

_"All you have to do is reach for her," Janan softly instructed.  "Reach for the life you were meant to have, for the life that was denied you.  And I pray that the lessons learned from loving Asiya will give you the strength you need to escape the shadows that seek to reclaim you."_

_Ardeth took a step forward and reached out with one hand and yet…he hesitated and looked back at Janan.  "I will always love you," he whispered solemnly. "You were my wife, my love…"_

_"Your friend and lover," Janan finished for him with a smile.  "I will always love you, my handsome warrior.  And as the years of your life spin towards their inevitable conclusion, we will meet again in __Paradise__.  I shall welcome both you and Asiya with an open heart and open arms…"_

_"Janan?"__ Ardeth called out in fear when her form started to shimmer and dissolve. He spun around, the tent now silent and empty except the four shadowed corners that still called out to him with a siren's deadly call.  There were no more hands holding him down or pushing him and Ardeth looked towards the center once again, hoping to see Asiya._

_The gods must have heard his desire as she appeared once again, her eyes shining with love, her arms out and open to him…_

_"Warrior?" she called out._

_"Healer," Ardeth replied and gladly walked into the light…_

_In his heart, he finally said goodbye to Janan and knew she was happy with his decision. _

_~*~_

"Now I want you to pay close attention, Alex," Jonathan said to his nephew as he carried the baby in his arms and paced around the nursery.  Alex had been fussing a little in his crib and Jonathan had quickly gathered the baby into his arms so his cries wouldn't bring Evy back up to soon.  "There is a card called the king, and like the monarch that he is pictured to be, he should rule all the suits – Hearts, Spades, Clubs and Diamonds.  Problem is-I don't see too much of him, or any other cards of power for that matter, which could help me rule the game."  Jonathan smiled at his joke but laughed when Alex cooed at him. 

"I say, you are a bright little fellow, aren't you?" he crooned to Alex and gently touched the baby's nose with his finger.  Vivid blue eyes stared up at him and Jonathan thought their expression was an odd mixture of innocence and ancient wisdom.  

"I can honestly say he takes after his mother on that personality trait," Evy spoke up from the doorway.

Jonathan turned around, chagrined at being caught and had a protest or denial, whichever was needed, ready to spring forth from his lips.  However the look on his sister's face stopped him.   "Are you all right, old mum?  You look like you've received a bit of bad news." 

Evy smiled wanly at Jonathan as she walked over to him, and he expected her to immediately take Alex from him but he was surprised when she passed by him and flopped down into a nearby chair.  "I've just received a message from the Bembridge scholars and I'm not sure how to feel about it," she said and waved a piece of paper in the air. 

Jonathan shifted Alex to his shoulder and walked over to his sister, remembering from past experiences how those damn scholars loved to torture her and remind her of her archeological inadequacies.  "Well, let's take this a step at a time.  What does the message say?" he asked. It felt good to fall into the much worn but comforting role as the older brother, a role which Jonathan had never had the chance to perfect.

"They have suddenly decided to replace the current curator of the British museum with complete stranger," Evy stated as she read the message again.  "Why I have no idea but they're asking if I can help this…this Mr. Umeer Hafez get situated once he arrives in London and of course…" 

"Show him around the museum," Jonathan finished for her.  

"Yes, like I did the old curator and the one before that…" Evy sighed in frustration.  She crumpled up the message and threw it into the nearby wastebasket. 

"Always the bridesmaid but never the bride, eh my sweet sister?" Jonathan teased, hoping to snap Evy out of her pout.  Alex started to rub his face against his shoulder and he looked at Evy in surprise, wondering what the baby was doing.

Evy stood up and tried to glare at Jonathan as she gently took Alex from his arms.  She cradled her son against her shoulder and soothingly rubbed his back with her hand, murmuring to him as she carried him back to his crib.  "Really, Jon, this is no time for jokes.  Normally I would have no problem in doing what the boys at Bembridge ask but this time, the timing is just too…too convenient." 

Jonathan followed them over, watching as Alex yawned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his fists.  He felt a little lost without the baby in his arms and certainly a tad colder, never realizing how much heat that little body could generate.  Images of him laying on one of the comfortable couches downstairs for an afternoon nap with Alex cuddled on his chest were certainly tempting.  And appalling.  When did he stop thinking about beautiful women and start thinking of his nephew?  

Jonathan tried not to frown at the way his thoughts had wandered and focused back on the problem at hand.  "All right then, granted I've been out of the family loop for a wee bit but explain to me why this is a bad thing?" Evy settled Alex down for his long overdue nap and slowly pulled a blanket over her now sleeping son.  She looked up at Jonathan and he could actually sense she was seeing him, beyond the dirt, the smoke and the red eyes.  Her perusal of him was concise, a retort about his appearance or his bad habits of late ready to tumble from her lips but instead, she surprised him with a whispered answer. 

"Rick is bringing back Imhotep's chest from Egypt to be stored here in England for safe keeping," she stated quietly.  "I've made arrangements for it to be kept in a nearby vault, but I haven't heard from Rick at all since he left.  I find it odd that now the scholars decide to replace the curator with a man whom we know nothing about." "Bloody hell," Jonathan whispered back.  "Talk about poor timing."

Brother and sister lapsed into silence as they quietly walked out of the nursery.  Once they were in the hallway, Jonathan was struck with inspiration.  "What do you say to a little research on our new friend, Mr. Hafez?  Either confirm or discredit any suspicions you may have about him." 

Evy seemed unimpressed by Jonathan's idea.  "Who will be doing this research and how much will it cost? Honestly, Jonathan, the last time you volunteered to do something for me, it ended up costing several artifacts from the exhibit and…" 

"Will you please just give me a chance?" Jonathan's frustrated statement silenced Evy's tirade and they stared at one another in a shocked silence.  He ran a hand through his hair and started pacing in front of her.  "Look, I know I haven't been the model older brother but at least give me a chance.  Let me do this for you, old mum, and I promise," he turned back to Evy and gently grabbed her shoulders, "I promise I won't let you down.  Please believe me.  I want to help." 

"Why this sudden change?" Evy asked softly.  "Why are you interested in helping me now?  I thought this family didn't matter to you, judging by your recent behavior." 

Jonathan cringed at the subtle reminder but felt lucky Evy didn't expand on it more.  "Because I've just realized…you, Rick and Alex are all that I have in this world.  And I don't fancy envisioning a future without all of you so, that's all I'll say on this matter." 

Evy stared at Jonathan, and it seemed her eyes were assessing everything about him.  Amazingly, he found that he was holding his breath waiting for her reply. 

"All right then," she finally said.  "But we shall both discuss what I want researched, and no lying to me.  We both know you've had a habit of that in the past." 

Jonathan followed Evy down the hallway, protesting loudly.  "I lied about one thing, that stupid puzzle box I found on a dig in Thebes.  Will you ever forget that? And…and besides, it helped you meet Rick." 

Evy was already to the top of the stairs and Jonathan had to run after her.  "You owe me that much, young lady.  Admit it." 

~*~

**_A/N_**_:  Hey, lookie…no translations. Or at least I don't think there are any.  LOL  Before we get into the shout outs, I hope my first attempts at writing Jonathan met with your approval.  I'm always a tad nervous when I try and write another character from TM/TMR but lucky me, I can 'hear' Jonathan talking when I write his dialogue.  My only problem was I kept trying to write him calling Evy "old mum" a lot.  LOL _

**_Dawn_**_ – I do put Nabil through a lot, don't I?  LOL  And yes, the love that Olivia and Nabil have for each other will continue to grow and strengthen; both will need it in the times to come.  And I wrote some more Ardeth…hope it met with your approval.  ;-)_

**_Deana_**_ – You're really kickin' out your namoos story and I highly recommend it for those of you who have yet to read it. Only Deana could come up with the idea of the Medjai being sick with malaria.  LOL  ;-)_

**_Ladybug_**_ – So glad you enjoyed the last chapter and sorry I made you cry for poor Faris.  Don't worry, there are new characters coming that will help Olivia care for Nabil but Faris won't be forgotten.  Thanks for reading._

**_Ellbee_**_ – Me build up to something?  Why, whatever do you mean?  LOL The war will be coming next and you know what I love to do to my warriors in a battle scene, don't you?  Heh heh_

**_Ruse_**_ – Thanks for reading and I tried to update as soon as I could but this chapter had to sit for a wee bit as I mulled around idea's. _

**_Marxbros_**_ – Allan is a skankbag?!?  LMAO!  Well, you've certainly expressed your opinion of him and I can say you've hit the nail on the head.  I'm tickled pink you like the Nabil/Olivia romance and yes, it was love at first sight.  But sometimes, that can be frightening, you know? There are a few obstacles this couple must overcome and here's a thought – how will Olivia react when she learns of Nabil's true identity?  And yes, Dr. Groves is a good man and he's turning out to be a sweetheart.  Thanks for the review, I love them._

**_Trudy Perry_**_ – One of these days I'm going to email you a thank you for reading this…LOL Until then, enjoy this next update but be worried, Allan isn't going down without a fight.  ;-)_

**_Marcher_**_ – Glad you had a chance to read the last chapter, I appreciate the feedback.  And as I had mentioned to Ell, me building up to something? Laws yes, my dear…war.  Hell hath no fury like the Medjai wanting revenge and hopefully, the next chapter will keep you on the edge of your seat._

_Thank you one and all, your reviews, comments, and emails are sometimes the fuel that keeps me going.  Later! ___


	24. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war

_Chapter 21_

_I amar prestar aen_…  
The world is changed.

_han__ mathon ne nen_…  
I feel it in the water.

_han__ mathon ne chae_…  
I feel it in the Earth.

_a__ han noston ned gwilith_.  
I smell it in the air.

_"Prologue to The Lord of the Ring"_

~*~

It was the kind of night he preferred, perfect for a battle to be waged.

Ideal for the predator in him to exalt in, to revel in the feelings of hatred and malice he harbored for the Medjai.  Jahm stood outside his tent, surveying what he had come to sardonically refer to as his kingdom over the past few days, knowing that all tasks had been accomplished to his satisfaction.  He was oblivious to Loch-nah's presence, to the subtle, continuous undermining of his position as leader, to everything except what his mind perceived as important.

To kill or be killed.  This was his life and he accepted it, the slight veneer of a civilized man melting away to reveal the true black nature of his soul.  Cold, dark lifeless eyes swept over the desert landscape as Jahm absent-mindedly touched the scar on his face in a morbid caress.

"Soon… soon," he chanted to himself, darting a nervous glance to where the chest was safely secured, resting under a tarp in the wagon.  A distorted smile slid over his face as he heard it whispering to him, as it had done ever since its arrival in camp; it seemed tonight would be no different.  Like a lost lover, Jahm embraced it, welcomed the voice in his mind and listened to it urge him to destroy the Medjai.  They had much in common, the disembodied voice and the man who had shunned repentance; they wallowed in what might have been and would always fight for what could still be - control of their worlds.

"There is still no sign of them," Loch-nah spoke up from Jahm's side, his haughty tone laced with impatience.  "The sentries report all is quiet.  I will take a squadron of men and ride to the perimeters of the camp…"

Jahm's bark of laughter momentarily silenced the Nubian.  "Still desire what you do not have, eh mercenary?"

Loch-nah seemed unfazed by Jahm's temporary show of bravado and tilted his head to one side, studying Jahm with glittering eyes.  "As much as you believe the chest is your talisman.  Be careful in what you choose as a charm, soon the chest will be gone.  And the immunity you may believe to have from my dagger will disappear, like a mirage."

"Are you threatening me?" Jahm asked in amazement.  

Loch-nah smirked and started to walk away.  "I will check the perimeters of the camp now," he called out over his shoulder. 

~*~

Darwish was sorely disappointed.

So far, being a part of the mighty and renowned army for Jahm Musad was turning out to be incredibly boring.  There were no great battles, no daring raids on unsuspecting villages, and no treasure to be plundered from ancient temples and crypts.

Instead, there were responsibilities and being a sentry was the worst in the young man's opinion.  With nothing to do to help pass the endless tedious hours of the night, recently he had taken to daydreaming.  He fantasized about the day when he would be a fearless leader like Musad, commanding his own men to raid a nearby village.  Clever leader that he was, he would order them to kidnap all the beautiful young maidens and bring them back to a secret hiding place situated in the…

"Do you hear me?" a harsh voice asked.

Darwish flinched when he felt a hand connect solidly with his ear and he spun around, embarrassed to have been caught negligent in his duties.  "Yes, sir… I mean no, sir," he stammered and offered a sloppy salute to the older man.

"I asked if you had seen anything while on duty but, judging by your dazed expression, it would seem I already have my answer,"  Akki-Badr snapped as he folded his arms across his chest.  

He fired off several orders to Darwish, who immediately tried to pacify the elder with his speedy compliance but something out on the horizon caught the young man's eye.  Subsequently he missed the last command, and earned himself another cuff alongside his head.

"Stupid, worthless, gutless boy," Akki-Badr fumed and started pacing.  "Word is spreading like a fire through the ranks that Loch-nah himself will be checking the posts in a few minutes and what do I have to show him?"

Darwish didn't answer and squinted his eyes; surely in the darkness, his mind was playing tricks on him.  Something large and mysterious on the horizon continued to grow, flooding the plains like a black flood and Darwish's eyes widened in surprise.  

"Medjai," the young man whispered, unable to hide the awe in his voice.  

"What?" Akki-Badr's asked skeptically and spun around, following Darwish's line of vision.

He peered into the darkness, and a moment later, Darwish thought it quite appropriate that his mouth simply dropped open in astonishment. They watched for a few tense and silent moments as the spot grew bigger, its size and capacity almost impossible to imagine.  The sound of thunder rumbled across the desert, the earth fairly shook as thousands of warriors emerged as one from the cover of night.   

Icy shivers of dread trickled down Darwish's spine as he and Akki-Badr watched in disbelief as the undulating mass spread itself across the landscape, stretching as far as the naked eye could see.  It came to an abrupt but precise stop, several leagues away and stood ready, poised like a hunter stalking prey, anticipating the perfect moment to strike.

"Sound the alarm," Akki-Badr ordered Darwish, unable to tear his eyes away from the enemy.  

Darwish remained immobile for a moment and then turned to his superior, his question showing the extent of his maturity.

"Are we going to die?"

Akki-Badr's gaze never left the horizon as his hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword.  "Yes, and by the grace of Allah, may we die well this night.  Now go!"

~*~

For an infinitesimal amount of time, the world hung in the balance, holding its breath as two adversaries met and measured one another on the proposed field of battle.  The occasional nervous whinny of a horse broke the tense silence and the very air seemed charged with animosity and inevitability – the hour was at hand.  

With the cold, pale orb of the moon as a companion and impartial witness, the enemy's battle cry floated across the desert as they rattled their swords and beckoned for the Medjai to attack.  Their show of audacity was met with the fury of a nation finally being released.  As one, the warriors surged forward, silent and lethal as they charged across the plains, their scimitars winking in the moonlight.  The earth shuddered and like a storm released, the Medjai swarmed towards Jahm's army; a lone voice shouted "Hatta maut!" and was answered with a swelling cry that pierced the serenity and innocence of the night.  

~*~

Rick leaned low over the neck of his horse, and the wind whistled around him as he galloped across the sand.  He directed the animal with his legs, his powerful thigh muscles bulging and flexing as he guided the horse to ride next to Kedar and the rest of the warriors.  He clenched the reins in his teeth, and pulled out his loaded pistols.  He glanced over at Kedar, and saw his silent gesture to hold fire until they were close enough and reluctantly, Rick complied.  

When the battle cry rippled through the ranks, Rick joined in and finally purged all the grief and anger he had been harboring since Ardeth's death.   He grabbed the reins with one hand and shouted until his throat was sore and raw.  He threw his hands up and tilted his head back, emitting a long cry that spilled forth from his heart in a torrent of emotions.  The ache in his heart eased somewhat and Rick fleetingly wondered if even God had heard him.  

~*~

The Medjai's charge had rattled Akki-badr's poorly trained and ill-equipped men and he rallied them as best he could, sending the signal for the men in the holes to strike.  When the Medjai were close enough, he dropped his hand with a triumphant shout.  He darted around the ranks of his men, laughing and watching with malevolent delight as the tide of the battle seemed to be turning in Musad's favor; the warriors fell like ripened wheat.  

For the rest of his brief life, Akki-badr would remember what happened next - when he came face to face with the wrath of the Medjai.  Volleys of gunfire erupted from the northern ridge above and to him, it seemed that the heavens had opened up and spewed forth molten fire.  The men fell, screaming and bleeding, their eyes silently accusing him of never anticipating return fire.

They died with his name as a curse on their lips.

He stumbled over the limp body of Darwish and collapsed to his knees, as rider after black rider raced past him, churning up the maroon colored sand in his face.  With a defiant snarl, he sprang to his feet, determined to fight to the death and a moment later, his wish was granted.  A scimitar impaled his chest and Akki-badr toppled over, his sightless eyes staring up into space as if in one last petition for mercy.

~*~

Ignoring Zaki's warning shout, Berin turned his horse away from the main contingent of warriors and rode towards the tent where he believed the missing commanders were being held.  His horse skidded to an abrupt halt and he jumped down, pulling his weapon free in one fluid motion.

Instinct prompted him to duck and roll, narrowly missing a blade meant to decapitate him and Berin responded with a savage ferocity – he crippled his attacker with a slice to the tendon behind the man's knee.  He ignored the screamed curses of the fallen man and cautiously approached the tent, bending down to extract the dagger from his boot.

Legends are known among the warriors: skill in battle and technique with the scimitar and dagger were honored and regaled with admiration.  Besides Nabil, Berin was one of the few warriors that had mastered the use of the three pronged short sword and his brethren knew quite well that he preferred to fight with two blades.   

Eyes burning with the fires of vengeance, Berin ducked into the tent and paused for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit interior.  The strong metallic smell of blood assaulted his senses.  Suddenly Berin knew the horrific reason why – the bodies or what remained of Aliyy and Wajeeh were haphazardly piled in the center of the tent.  Six men circled the two commanders and they gestured for Berin to come closer, the largest of them smiling evily in what may have been in the anticipation of an easy kill.  

"Come Medjai, it is time to die," he said coldly.  

Berin's battle cry echoed through the night as he raised his scimitar and charged…

~*~

As Quadamah and the other commanders watched the battle below, he fervently wished that he was the one leading his men into battle.  Instead, the task of acting as advisor and spectator did little to appease the burning desire for revenge in the heart of the warrior; Quadamah barely held himself in check. 

A collective groan came from the commanders when they had witnessed Musad's camouflaged men deal what could have been a lethal strike to the warriors.  The next wave of Medjai riding towards the front line of the enemy were prepared and entangled their arms through the loops of rope, securing them to their saddles.  When the order came for the tribes of the First and the Ninth to fire, Quadamah acted on instinct.  He heard the startled shouts from the others but disregarded them as he urged his horse forward.  

He rode down the incline, as small stones and pebbles skipped in his wake and guided his horse into the heart of the battle.  With a stirring cry, Quadamah pulled his scimitar free with practiced ease and hurled himself into the fray.  The brotherhood of the warrior was indeed strong as it prompted him to react.

He was blissfully ignorant of the miracle that had appeared on the horizon and that was rapidly coming closer, irrevocably changing the tide of the war.  

~*~

Ardeth and Sued rode across the sand like two avenging wraiths, their brown robes flapping in the breeze like the wings of a great bird.  Ardeth bent low over his horse's neck, urging Nijm Zarik to go faster, and he felt the horse respond with a great burst of speed.   As they rode closer to the fighting, Ardeth gave a silent prayer of thanks that somehow, he had managed to make it this far.  His warriors, his brothers in blood, and his people needed him.  When he saw them falter from the tactical maneuver of Musad's, Ardeth reacted the only way he knew how – he pulled off the hood of the robe and revealed himself.

Weariness and pain were shrugged off as he rode through the ranks of the Medjai, his appearance alone lending them much-needed support.  Unquestionably, his battle cry sent shivers of dread into the hearts of the enemy.  The Phoenix had risen from the ashes and with a virulent cry it loomed over the Medjai, spreading its great wings.  It assured them of success in their time of need.       

A roar swelled up from the back of the teeming mass of warriors and men fighting and it rolled over the earth, a mixture of disbelief and unabashed joy.  It revitalized the Medjai and grew to enormous proportions, fed by jubilant eye-witness accounts.

Ardeth Bay had miraculously risen from the dead.  

~*~

_A/N – Indeed it has been far too long since I last updated this and for that, I apologize.  Oddly enough, while I have an outline to follow, I still fell under a kind of writer's block.  I'm stuck on how I wish to end all of this and yes, the end will soon follow.  However, the adventures will continue for my characters in Heroes 5, I just have to decide which warrior besides Nabil gets his story told next.  LOL Have I ever mentioned how pushy warriors are?  _

_Thank you for reading and hopefully reviewing, as I've said on my other fanfic, "Somewhere In Time" your comments often inspire me. For that, I am grateful.  I hope this chapter and the next will leave you hanging on the edge of your seat and oh yeah, Rick and Ardeth's reunion is coming up…laws yes, it is.  LOL_

_Ps- I thought it was appropriate to have the prologue to LOTR start off this chapter, since technically, the world has changed for my evil guy Jahm.  And besides, I love hearing Elvish whispered and have freaked out my co-workers on several occasions by leaving them a voicemail of me saying that…LOL Oooops, did I divulge too much information? *wink* _

**_Shout-outs:_**

****

**_JonnyCarnahan_****_ – __welcome and thanks for the compliment regarding Jonathan.  He will appear in this fanfic again towards the end but in H5, he's taking on a more prominent role. I hope as I continue to write him, my version of him meets with your approval.  LOL_**

**_Patty – _**_I hope this chapter for you was a tense little prelude for what is to come and I'm glad you liked Ardeth's dream of Janan and Jonny and Alex bonding.  You know me, this all serves a purpose for what I'm setting up to come…heh heh Thanks for reading._

**_Marcher – _**_I'm tickled pink you like my Jonathan and as I said to Jonnycarnahan, we'll get to see a side of him in H5 I don't think anyone has written before.  Thanks so much for reading and your right, not only is Mr. Hafez a nasty little man, but he doesn't like it when people start snooping into his business.  *wink*_

**_Deana – _**_Ardeth…overdose…losing his spleen…oh wait, that's what you did to Frank in one of your fanfics.  *wink* I'm kidding, teasing oh Queen of Chaos.  LOL As you commanded, "SIT" is now finished and thanks ever so much for your reviews on both stories. I'm hoping what I've done to revise some future scenes turn out better than before and that another update for H4 will soon follow._

**_Ruse – _**_Cultivating a good story is like gardening, I've discovered.  You write something, read it and tweak it a thousand times, like pulling weeds, until you're finally satisfied with the end product…or produce.  LOL I never imagined this story would take so long to write but I am determined to bring it to a close so I can continue with more adventures. Thanks for reading. __J___

**_Lula - _**_*blushes* Thankee kindly for the sweet words and I'm glad quite a few things about the last chapter stuck in your mind.  And yes, the tour with Evy and Hafez will lead into something more, since we all know what eventually Hafez will reveal himself to be…thanks for reading and hopefully, you'll be updating your own fanfic soon?  _

**_Dawn369 – _**_Ardeth's reunion with Asiya is coming soon, and thankfully Kedar will take care of him as they ride back to the healer's compound.  Thanks for reading, my friend_

**_Marxbros_****_ – __Erm__, so I take it you don't like Allan, eh?  LOL Well the skankbag isn't done wrecking havoc just yet.  Not by a long shot…heh heh *eg* Thanks for your vote on how I wrote Jonathan, he seems to be quite the popular lad with folks, and of course, you know I'm going to have to capitalize on some of those 'possibilities' since Evy and Jonathan are back in the story. Laws yes…heh heh_**

**_I believe I've covered everyone so onwards…to the next chapter and the much anticipated reunion.  Peace my friends.  LOL _**


	25. The tide of war and a reunion

Chapter 22

Jahm spun around, his sword following him in a deadly arc meant to impale his opponent but the warrior was too agile and easily blocked the lethal blow.  When the Medjai countered Jahm's attack with a jab that came too close to his chest, the mighty leader of men barely dodged the point of the sword and whirled away, frantically seeking an escape.  Grabbing one of his own, Jahm threw the hapless man at the warrior and ran through the ranks, back towards the chest.

"This cannot be!" Jahm hissed as he watched the fighting all around him through narrowed eyes.  

He had fought well in this war, and had gladly fallen into the insanity that had blanketed his soul.  He had done what his nature had preordained – he had killed.  However, it seemed for every warrior that he dispatched, two more would appear until the obvious conclusion invaded his tortured mind.

The battle was lost.

The Medjai were steadily over-running the perimeters of the camp as his cowardly men fled into the night.  His lips curled back into an insolent sneer and he looked wildly around for the chest.  There had to be a fortuitous conclusion to this ill-fated battle and Jahm decided to seize the opportunity.  Hafez could rot in hell for all he cared.  

Running towards the wagon where the chest rested, his mind easily listened to the welcoming voice, coaxing him along.  An unusual noise distracted him for a moment and he stopped, turning around to locate its source.  His eyes widened in shock when he saw the once-believed-to-be-deceased Commander Bay riding through the ranks of the warriors.

At that very moment, a silver shaft of moonlight peeked through lazily rolling clouds overhead and shown down upon the warrior, bathing him in an eerie glow.  It danced through his dark, windblown locks, caressed the broad shoulders, and illuminated the tattoos that proclaimed his heritage.  The night may hide many truths, but the light chose to reveal a reality that Jahm's mind, teetering on the brink of insanity, did not want to comprehend.

_The __Chosen__ One was coming for the chest.  _

Uttering a string of dark curses, he shook his head in astonishment.  Hatred boiled within him, as memories of alleged past atrocities goaded him to commit what may have been a rash and foolish action.  He managed to avoid further combat and quickly ducked behind a tent.  He peered out a second later and jealously watched the Medjai ride towards the wagon.

And a plan suddenly blossomed in his mind.

~*~

"Musad!"  Loch-nah snarled with disgust under his breath.  He had seen the foolish actions of the other man even as he blocked a fatal thrust from his opponent and ducked under the blow. He spun around and shoved his sword into the warrior's stomach. He twisted it and yanked it free, pushing the man to one side, his nostrils flaring from his exertions.  The fight was going badly.  Musad must have already predetermined the outcome of the battle and had indicated his choice for survival and it was time for Loch-nah to do the same.

His instincts prompted him to react, saving himself from a fate worse than death once the Medjai learned who had killed their precious commanders.  He ran over to a predetermined spot and gave a shrill whistle, alerting a hand-picked group of men that it was time to depart.  

Now he would reap the benefits from the hours he had spent as a seemingly willing lackey for Jahm and the seeds of power he had planted would come to fruition.  With his own small army of men, he would flee to Cairo and look for Hafez; most likely killing his so-called trusted accomplice for his lack of support in this effort.  

Along the way, Loch-nah knew of an ancient temple of a defunct priest sect that the Medjai had defeated several years ago.  Rumors indicated that the remaining scattered followers were devoted to the destruction of their hated enemy, and held the knowledge to summon the powers of the underworld.  And control of deadly creatures called Wraiths.  Spitefully, Loch-nah would incite those fanatical followers to invoke their most powerful incantations and summon the dark riders to wreck havoc among the Medjai villages.  It would be a pitiful attempt at revenge but one that Loch-nah could not pass up.       

Power in any form, gotten by any means suited Loch-nah fine and he left behind the mêlée, without a second glance.    

~*~

In the concentrated heart of the battle, Rick fought alongside Kedar and Zaki.  Jameel and Tamim were off to one side, but he had no idea where Lu'ay had gone. They were all on foot now, and were slowly making their way towards the chest.  

Rick fired off round after round, his guns clicking constantly as he kept shooting at the enemy who foolishly charged at him.  His face was set with grim determination from the task set before him, and as he waded deeper into the enemies midst, he felt almost invincible.  He realized that from watching Kedar and Zaki, they were formidable opponents, their scimitars spinning in deadly arcs that sprayed warm blood into the night air.  It seemed both warriors had lost the humane side of their natures, and seemed impervious to the death and chaos around them. There was only one objective – to aid Rick in reaching the chest, no matter the cost.   He just hoped that for their help, they wouldn't have to pay with their lives.  

Distracted by his thoughts, Rick cursed when he felt something whistle by his ear and before he could react, the man suddenly stiffened in front of him, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.  When the man fell to the ground, Rick saw that Tamim stood behind him, pulling his scimitar from the body.  With a nod towards Rick, Tamim spun around, his robes flaring out as he waded into battle again.  

Rick growled in frustration over his momentary lapse in concentration; it had almost cost him his life.  Pulling his spare set of guns from the holsters on his back, Rick continued to follow Kedar and Zaki, unaware there was someone else racing to get to the chest.

~*~

Berin whirled around, his body fluid in motion and form as he brought around his scimitar, blocking the thrust of a sword and parrying another with his dagger.  The fight had been vicious, the numerous cuts over his broad shoulders and massive chest bearing silent testament to the ferocity of the battle.  Sweat poured down his face, his breath came in short gasps but Berin relished this moment to release the sorrowful rage inside of him; it no longer gnawed at his heart.  Instead, it channeled through his arms as energy and lent him the strength he needed to defeat another of the enemy.  

The four remaining men paused and backed away from Berin, most likely to redirect their efforts and attack.  Berin danced on the balls of his feet, poised and alert, his eyes black with anger; he motioned for them to come forward, a grim smile on his face.  "Come now, who wishes to die next?" he casually asked.

"Arrogant dog," someone hissed and two men charged forward, their swords flashing in lethal swings aimed at Berin's head.  He parried one blow, ducked and twisted his body between the two men, stabbing the other man in the neck with his dagger.  His move caught the remaining three men by surprise but they regrouped and charged again, giving him very little time to recover.

Berin threw himself to the ground, and then rolled to his feet, slashing and parrying; the dreadful sound of metal grating against metal rang through the tent.  His attackers followed his momentum and Berin rewarded one of them for his stupidity; his dagger snaked out and sliced a long, deep gash in the man's leg.  As the man fell to the ground, clutching his wound, the other two charged forward.  Berin doubled his efforts although the strain from the fight was beginning to tax his incredible strength.  Any honor or bravery in this had ended the moment Berin had found Aliyy's and Wajeeh's bodies; he reacted to the barbaric treatment of his fellow warriors on the most basic of levels.

Like an animal, he growled and lunged forward, meeting their advance, catching one of the men by surprise.  He plunged his scimitar deep into the first man's stomach and pulled the blade free.  He spun to the side, missing the other sword as it danced along his forearm and blocked the jab from the second man's blade.  Using all of his power, he drove the dagger up into his opponent's heart, his forearms bulging from the force.  He stared into the man's face, watching the red foam bubble around his mouth as the life faded from his eyes.  

Berin shoved the last of the enemy away from him and watched coldly as the body crumpled to the floor.  A wave of weariness washed over him as he finally turned to his friends.  He rubbed a shaking hand over his face, and then staggered over to them, kneeling down in the dirt.  With one hand, he gently checked for any signs of life.  Suddenly he muttered an oath of surprise, and gingerly pulled Aliyy into his arms.  

"Ya ukh," Berin called and tapped the warrior's face, trying to rouse him.  He watched as the elder warrior's eyes fluttered open and heard the rattle in his breath; death would come soon and claim another.  "Be at peace, ya sahib.  I am here and we shall pray together, but I must ask – where is Nabil?" Berin asked urgently.  

"T-taken away… by boy and woman, to Sedment," Aliyy wheezed and grasped Berin's hands with his own.  "Nabil w-will live… Insha'allah but I know… I will not."

"You have fought well and with honor, ya Tauyib sahib," Berin murmured sadly and bent his dark head in prayer.  "All will honor and remember you, your name written in the chronicles of our people."

"Tell Nabil…" Aliyy suddenly gasped and clung to Berin's hands, his body stiffening for a moment as his life slowly ebbed away.  "Tell Nabil… I w-would have been proud to call him my son.  G-give him my family crest… and my weapons…"

Berin nodded his head.  "I promise."  He closed his eyes, fighting against the tide of sorrow that battered his beleaguered heart.  "Ma'assalama, ya ukh and may we both meet in Paradise one day."

"Salam-m…" Aliyy breathed and closed his eyes.  

Berin watched as Aliyy's body gradually relaxed, and his breathing slowed until there was one last gasp.  With a grief-stricken voice, he began to pray.  "Laa ilaaha il-lal-laah…"

~*~

The fighting ebbed and flowed around Ardeth and Sued as they threaded their horses through the seething mass of humanity.  With his waning concentration focused on getting to the chest, Ardeth never saw the enemy lunging up at him to pull him from his horse until it was too late.  Ardeth toppled from Nijm Zarik and grappled with the man until aid came in the most unlikely form of the Helper.  With a cold and deadly precision, Sued quickly eradicated the man and turned to Ardeth.  His surprisingly strong arms came around Ardeth's chest as he helped him to stand.  The temporary surge of adrenaline that had given Ardeth the stamina to ride into Musad's camp had abruptly left him; he felt his body trembling from the combination of exhaustion and pain.  

"Take all my strength, Commander and let the warriors see you," Sued urged and guided Ardeth towards the wagon.  "Your presence will continue to inspire the warriors!"

Ardeth leaned against the helper for support, and pushed his already taxed body forward, his eyes focused on the goal that loomed only a few feet ahead of him.  Each step brought new agony coursing through his body and when someone slammed into Sued, they were both knocked to the ground.  The world precariously tilted and dark spots swam before his eyes.

Fearing he would black out, Ardeth scrambled to his hands and knees, riding out the need to give into the encroaching shadows in his mind.  Somehow, he dredged up the last remains of his strength.  He staggered to his feet, pushing himself onwards with the incredible determination that had sustained him through so many trials in his life…

_…through the beating he received at the hands of Janan's killers…_

_…through the fight he had with O'Connell after her death…_

_…through the challenge he had survived at the hands of Adham Sariyah…_

_…through the sickness that had seized his body from the infected arrow wound and still threatened his life…___

The wagon was only a few feet away from Ardeth when he was suddenly grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground.  His body landed heavily, and his injured thigh hit the sand hard, sending white-hot jolts of pain through his body.  Breathing was almost impossible through the agony and before he could react, Ardeth felt himself being lifted from the ground and thrown again.  

~*~

_"There is nothing so great that I fear to do it for my friend; nothing so small that I will disdain to do it for him._

- _Sir Phillip Sidney _

_~*~_

"O'Connell… ija!"

"Ya need to speak English, Kedar," Rick muttered to himself as he followed the warrior, both of them working their way through the enemy.  There had been a pause in the fighting and Rick knew Kedar would take advantage of it; he had broken through the ranks like a charging bull.  And it was all Rick could do to keep up with him.  Somehow, they had lost Zaki along the way.  

The wagon containing the chest was still heavily guarded and when Kedar was attacked by one of Musad's men, Rick wanted to help but knew he was running out of ammunition.  He stopped to reload yet before he could fire, a body flew through the air and landed several few feet away from him with a sickening thud.  He watched the man roll onto his back and reach down, hands groping and clutching his thigh.  When his face was revealed in its mask of suffering, Rick felt like he had been punched in the stomach.  

A face that had the same profile, the strong jawline, and the eyes of… 

"Ardeth?" Rick asked and took a few faltering steps forward.  

The hulking form of a man charged from around the side of the wagon and bent down, grabbing Ardeth's robes with his huge, meaty hands.  He effortlessly pulled Ardeth to his feet, and then off the ground, his fists clenched tightly in the fabric.  He viciously shook Ardeth as if he were a rag doll.  Ardeth struggled and although his movements were sluggish and weak, his fists violently boxed the man's ears.  The enemy howled in pain and retaliated by throwing Ardeth a few feet away from the wagon.  Ardeth landed heavily and tried to awkwardly roll to his feet but his leg refused to cooperate; he fell to all fours.   

"Oh my God, Ardeth…" Rick confirmed and he started running, reloading his guns as quickly as possible.  He watched in stunned fascination as the man he had once believed to be dead was effortlessly picked up and thrown back down to the ground again.

It didn't matter how Ardeth was alive, or that he wasn't wearing the robes of the Medjai.  All that mattered was that Rick would not fail his friend like he believed he had that day at the pier.  His heart hammered in his chest, scalding anger boiled over him when he saw how much danger his friend was in and a sense of déjà vu made Rick believe he would be too late.  His lips curled up in a defiant snarl.     

"No!" Rick raged and fired.  He reloaded and pulled the trigger again, amazed that the bullet didn't slow down Ardeth's opponent and he fired once more.  His boots pounded against the sand, in rhythm with his mind chanting a denial that Ardeth would die again because of his inaction.  He kept firing, grunting with satisfaction each time the enemy's body jerked from the bullet's impact and he finally released his hold.  Ardeth slumped to the ground as the man spun around, finally facing the new threat bearing down on him like an avenging angel of death.  

"Die already, you lousy son of a bitch!"  Rick's vision narrowed down to this one moment in time, his gaze centering on his target with deadly accuracy.  He skidded to a halt and brought up his arm to balance the gun sites, taking deliberate aim; he shot the man in the forehead with his last bullet.  Impassively, he watched the man fall to the ground and then turned to Ardeth; his friend painfully pulled himself to his feet, his body swaying as he seemed to try and get his bearings.  Rick took a step forward, his heart beating wildly in his chest, so many sensations coursing through him at one, threatening to drop him to his knees.

One of darkness and eternal duty met one of light and intrepidness; friend met friend and both men simply stared at one another.

The silence between them was laden with emotions that if voiced out loud, would sound choked and hoarse.  The boundaries of their friendship had somehow transcended what they had known before and while both silently acknowledged it, they resorted to the familiar and often-used resource of humor.

"Was this 'save Ardeth and kill the giant'?" Ardeth asked, a mixture of amusement and fatigue on his face.  

"Something like that," Rick replied with a weary grin and holstered his guns.  Both men stared at the body of the dead man and then one another, an unspoken understanding flowing between them.  Their friendship had changed in the past few days; their feelings had taken them both into the hellish inferno of grief and anger.  

Like heated steel, they had been forged and shaped into something stronger and when they emerged, nothing save death would separate them again.  They were brothers in all but blood.  

"You okay?" Rick asked.  He saw Ardeth struggle to keep his weight off of his injured leg.  

"I will be," a ghost of a smile flashed over Ardeth's face and to Rick his eyes looked suspiciously bright.  

"You ever pull a stunt like that again and I swear to God…" Rick mumbled and reached for Ardeth's arm.  He was more than astonished when Ardeth abruptly pulled him into an embrace, his hands thumping Rick's back.  "Hey, I thought my friendship was killing you," Rick joked.  When it took too long for Ardeth to answer, Rick called his name but it ended in a curse when he felt Ardeth slump against him.

"Shit!" Rick muttered.  The weight of Ardeth's body pulled him to the ground, and Rick twisted his body so he took the brunt of the impact.  He cradled Ardeth in his arms, and his throat ached from yelling for help.  He saw the dark stain spreading across Ardeth's thigh and he desperately pulled his friend closer.  "I gotcha, pal, and I'm not letting go…" he said fearfully, "…I'm not letting go."    

"Samah ana," Ardeth murmured and reached down, unable to hide the groan of pain as he touched his thigh.  "I did not mean to cause you any… concern."

"Too late," Rick retorted and looked around for Kedar.  Quickly he found the sub-commander, and gave a sharp whistle to get his attention.  A second later, Rick flinched when he heard the warrior's subsequent bellow of surprise when he saw Ardeth.  And he chuckled as he watched the warrior's facial expressions melt from disbelief to utter joy.  

"I would… know… that sound… anywhere," Ardeth said with a ragged sigh.  He appeared to be having trouble staying awake and his eyes slid shut for a moment.

"Ardeth, buddy, stay with me, okay?" Rick almost pleaded.  He watched Kedar and a few other warriors run over to them, skirting around the last small pockets of fighting.  For the most part, the battle was over; the Medjai had won.  But Rick wouldn't relax or surrender his hold on Ardeth until he knew his friend was in safe hands.

~*~

Zaki crept into the tent with the point of his scimitar raised, expecting an ambush.  Instead he stared in shock at the ground littered in a grotesque mosaic of blood and men; Berin sat in the middle of it, holding the limp body of Aliyy as if he were a child.  Next to him were the remains of Wajeeh and for a moment, Zaki felt the bile rise in his throat.  He fought the urge to retch and knelt down by his friend, wondering if the toll of this battle had extracted too deep of a price when he saw the myriad of cuts over Berin's upper body.  

"Ya ukh?" Zaki gently touched Berin's shoulder.  Slowly, and to his relief, the elder warrior turned and faced him.  He searched Berin's face for any signs of recognition and saw the fires of awareness rekindled in his eyes.  "What happened here?"

Berin didn't respond at first and instead, gently released his hold on Aliyy's body and pushed himself to his feet; Zaki stood up with him.  Golden eyes met black ones for a brief moment and Zaki saw deep within Berin's gaze the flickering light of his humanity struggling to burn. "Berin?" Zaki prompted.  

"Death," Berin replied, the tone of his voice flat and emotionless.  

"What of Nabil?" Zaki asked and then hurried after Berin as he methodically stepped over the bodies.  Just before he ducked through the tent flaps, Zaki caught Berin's arm.  

"He was taken to Sedment el-Gebel," Berin replied, apparently unable to meet Zaki's unwavering gaze.  "That is where I intend to go."

"You intend to go alone," Zaki guessed, his conclusion confirmed a second later when Berin didn't answer.  Zaki grabbed Berin's arm, and the two giants faced each other, evenly matched in height and strength.  Berin's advantage was that irreconcilable grief fueled his actions.  

"I intend to find my blood brother.  You said I must honor my friendship with Nabil by honoring my oath," Berin said.  He shrugged off Zaki's hand and a silent challenge flared up between them.  "Let me go."

"As you wish," Zaki finally conceded and backed away.  "At least, take my advice and proceed with caution.  Musad's army has fled into the desert, scattering like seeds on the wind.  A Medjai alone would prove to be too tempting a target to ignore.  There may be some who would be willing to find out how easy, no matter the cost."

Berin nodded his head and ducked through the tent flaps as Zaki followed closely behind him.  They stood for a moment, watching the last cavities of fighting die down.  The Medjai now controlled the encampment as prisoners were rounded up and confined in a makeshift barricade.  Patrols of warriors walked across the ground littered with bodies, performing the grisly task of seeking out those that still clung to life.

"Shukran for understanding, ya sahib," Berin turned and extended his forearm to Zaki.  

"Send word to me as soon as you reach Sedment or by all that is holy, I will come looking for you," Zaki reached out and clasped Berin's forearm in the traditional warrior farewell.  "Meanwhile, I will find a way to explain to the commanders that somehow, you have disappeared from the field of battle without advising them of your intentions."

Berin gave Zaki a brief smile.  "Assalam'alaikoom, ya ukh."

" 'Alaikoom Assalam," Zaki replied.  "May Allah grant you a safe journey."

Berin gave a slight bow and then turned, racing off into the night.  Zaki watched as the massive warrior's figure darted through the camp, towards a waiting horse.  He sent up an additional pray in the hopes that once Berin found Nabil, the missing commander would be alive.  Pity welled up in Zaki's heart for those responsible if Nabil wasn't found alive and with a heavy sigh, he began searching for his superiors to deliver the grim news regarding Aliyy and Wajeeh.  

~*~

Ardeth's lack of response was foreboding and it gripped Rick's heart with an icy tenacity; his relief was insurmountable when Kedar finally knelt down by his side.  

"Give him to me," Kedar demanded and reached forward to take Ardeth from Rick. 

"Naw, I got it.  I'll take him, just tell me where to go," Rick argued and slowly, climbed to his feet with the help from the other warriors.  He carried Ardeth against him, as if he were a child and refused for anyone else to touch him.

"O'Connell, you must take the chest," Kedar snapped and stopped Rick by grabbing his forearm.  "Remember Quadamah's instructions; the Tribe of the Third is waiting for you.  This is your escort."  He motioned to three warriors who stood off to the side and one warrior with dark amber colored eyes stepped forward and gave a slight bow.  

"Yeah well, they can wait until I know Ardeth is going to be okay," Rick said stubbornly.  

Kedar came up to Rick's side and placed a hand on his shoulder.  "I give you my word on my oath as a warrior: I will take care of Ardeth.  I will personally take him to the healers and stay with him until he recovers.  You once asked me where I was that day on the pier; this is now my chance to rectify that error."

Rick stared at the sub-commander, and saw the guilt flare up in his dark eyes.  Rick guessed Kedar had his own demons to battle with for not being there when Ardeth had needed him the most.  Understanding far more now than he had originally about Kedar, he reluctantly admitted to himself that he trusted him.  And with that realization, Rick sighed, surrendering Ardeth to the warrior. 

"At least give me a chance to say goodbye," he quietly asked.  

"Of course," Kedar replied.  

Rick watched as he ran over to get his horse and then signaled for a group of warriors to mount up.  There was a flurry of activity as the wagon was brought forward.  He looked around in surprise to see he was surrounded by a sea of black; warriors reached out and gently touched his arms, back and shoulders in a silent farewell and then melted away, allowing more to step forward.  They followed him for a few feet, continuing to pay their quiet tribute for his courageous help.  It was all Rick could do as he nodded his head in appreciation.

"My brothers will honor you," came Ardeth's quiet voice.  His head was resting against Rick's good shoulder, his face pale and withdrawn.  

"Yeah well, I never wanted their honor… just my friend," Rick said with a slight grin.  "I suppose you heard everything?"

"Enough to let you know how much I value your friendship," Ardeth said with a sleepy smile.  "I will never forget this, ya ukh… my people and I are indebted to you."

Rick was at a loss on what to say and had reached Kedar's side.  "Wait until I send you the bill."  

With help from a few others, Rick watched as Ardeth was taken from him and given to Kedar, who gently settled the warrior to ride in front of him.  A sudden hush had descended over those assembled, a feeling of apprehension marring the joy of Ardeth's sudden return when it became apparent all was not well with him.  Murmurs of concern floated through the air but Kedar expertly alleviated their fears, assuring them that he would personally supervise the ride to the nearest village's healer.  

"Take him to Il-Bint Bitaa'tibbi," a voice suddenly called out from the crowd.

The warriors stepped aside to reveal the weary but triumphant figure of the helper, Sued, as he walked over to Kedar with the lead reins for Nijm Zarik held firmly in one hand.  "This is a story that will be told for generations to come, and what tale would be complete without the reunion of two who have found one another after so much sorrow?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.  

"What is at the healer's compound that the nearest village can not offer," Kedar wondered, his voice unintentionally impatient.

"Asiya…" Ardeth sighed and leaned his head back against Kedar's shoulder. 

"Indeed," Sued confirmed with a warm smile.  "He promised to return to her and I know a warrior never rescinds on a promise."

"You met a woman and you didn't tell me?"  Rick tired to sound indignant even as he knew the time was rapidly approaching to say goodbye.  

He looked up at his friend, knowing deep in his heart that whatever boundaries their friendship previously had were irrevocably changed and for that, he was glad.  When the words failed him, he simply touched Ardeth's good leg in a gesture of farewell.    

Ardeth must have felt the contact and looked down at Rick, his hand reaching for him.  Their hands clasped a moment later, locked in the eternal binding of brotherhood and camaraderie.   

"Ya ikhwi, sallam 'ala!" [My brothers, salute!] Kedar bellowed. 

The sound of thousands of scimitars pulled from their sheaths rang through the night air and Rick spun around in surprise at the display before him.  As far as the eye could see, the Medjai stood proudly in front of him, honoring him as Ardeth said they would.  Quadamah, Jericho, Jameel and Zaki stood nearby.  Emotions already tempered from the recent events of the night threatened to make Rick's composure crumble.  He shoved a hand through his hair, feeling slightly self-conscious, as a small smile danced around his lips.  He gave a slight bow to the warriors.

The Medjai responded with a jubilant roar and when Rick felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned around in time to see Kedar's nod of farewell.  Somehow, he had a feeling he would meet the charismatic warrior again and watched as Kedar and Ardeth rode off with a small group of warriors.

"I thought to apologize for Kedar's abruptness earlier and explain to you that he would move heaven and earth for Ardeth," Zaki spoke up from Rick's side.  "But I can plainly see that is not necessary, for you already understand."

They watched the procession ride across the landscape and Rick found it appropriate that the dawn was spreading its pastel colors across the night sky.  The beginning of a new day, brimming with possibilities and hope.    

"Yeah, I understand," Rick said and they walked over to his new escort; the warriors from the Tribe of the Third.  He climbed into the wagon and gave a quick nod to the young warrior that sat next to him, holding the reins.  

"May Allah grant you a safe journey, O'Connell," Zaki called out as the wagon lurched forward.  

"Tell Ardeth I'll send a message once I'm back home," Rick called out and waved his goodbye, settling back into the seat.  He heaved a sigh of relief.  Ardeth was alive and in capable hands, the chest was finally out of the enemy's grasp and on its way to a safe place in England.  And Rick was finally going home – visions of Evy and Alex danced before him like mirages and he finally allowed his tired body to take refuge in the dreams of his heart.  "Wake me when we reach the port," Rick instructed the warrior.  He crossed his arms over his chest, stretched out his long legs and a moment later, fell asleep.  

~*~

He had stolen the robe of a deceased warrior and concealed the lack of facial tattoos, staying surreptitiously to the back of the column as they rode from the encampment.  He watched with narrowed eyes the way the warrior handled the stricken Commander Bay and as the miles passed by and night slowly gave way to dawn, he planned and plotted.  

If all went all, Jahm would still be able to strike at the heart of his enemy and finally obtain his ultimate revenge.    

~*~

Dharr al Rushdi carefully picked his way over the bodies of the fallen around the outside perimeters of the camp, alongside the treacherous holes so many of his brethren had fallen into earlier that night.  His handsome face showed his dislike for the grisly yet necessary chore at hand - looking for survivors.  Every so often, he would bend down over a body and carefully check for any signs of life.  His fellow warrior, Solman Abdul-Wahid, seemed to be having more success than he was at the moment and suddenly whistled for the litter bearers to come carry another warrior off the field of battle.  

His heart glad there was another survivor, Dharr returned his attention to the task at hand, and cautiously approached the carcass of a horse.  He grimaced from the overpowering stench of death and blood, pulling up his face covering and turning his face away for a moment.  Taking a deep breath, he walked around the side of the animal, and came closer, his eyes widening with surprise – there was a warrior slowly trying to crawl away.  His efforts were useless since his leg was pinned beneath the horse's weight and his strength appeared to be waning. 

Dharr knelt down next to the warrior and quickly soothed him with words of hope and encouragement, whistling for the litter bearers.  The warrior turned his blood streaked face up to Dharr at the sound of his voice and lifted his gaze, to reveal eyes that were colored the most startling shade of gray.

"Sahil, ya ukh.  Help is coming," Dharr said reassuringly and touched the warrior's shoulder.  "Can you tell me your name?"

Panic flared up in the warrior's eyes and he struggled harder to be free.  Dharr easily held him down with both hands, intrigued by his strange reaction.  Shock was most likely setting in from his injuries, and Dharr continued talking to him to serve as a distraction.  Eventually the bearers arrived just as the warrior lost consciousness and they began the arduous process of extracting him from under the horse.  

As they worked, Dharr kept thinking to himself about the warrior's unusual eye color and felt sure he had seen it somewhere before.

~*~

_A/N – Thanks to all the reviewers in my last chapter, I'm tickled pink y'all read it but have to ask…who is going to be lucky reviewer 200?  Whoever it is, I shall send over a warrior in a UPS box just for you, to say thanks.  He'll be wearing nothing but a smile and a big red ribbon!  LOL Can I say that here?  _

_Thanks to my beta, Tori, who sprinkled some "Tori-dust" on this, to Ladybug for her suggestions and opinions, and to Deana, who not only was a big help with this story but for her suggestions for "Somewhere In Time."  Deana is more of a help than she realizes.  _

**_Time for the shout-outs:_**

****

**_Dawn369 – _**_Hopefully Rick and Ardeth's reunion was done just right and I'm glad you liked Ardeth rising like the __Phoenix__ out of the ashes. I liked it too. Lol_

**_Kathy – _**_Thanks so much for leaving a review!  I think I like Rick's reaction to Ardeth – how about you?  Lol_

**_Serena1221 – _**_Thanks for reading and reviewing, and I'm glad you liked the battle so far._

**_Ladybug – __Ah, ya hulu sahib, Shukran for the review.__  Ardeth be in da house and he can't kick any butt, he is reunited with Rick, ie the dynamic duo.  And as I'm sure you read, Berin is okay…for now.  Heh heh_**

**_Ruse_****_ – __I owe thee some reviews my friend and sorry for the lapse.  I'm glad you're still reading this and I hope to continue to update on a more regular basis.  If you think this is over…not by a long shot. Heh heh_**

**_Patty – _**_A special thanks to you for inspiration from your last review.  You said, "…his hood back to reveal that glorious black hair, white teeth flashing in the moonlight."  Can you tell which part of this chapter I put my own version of that in?  lol Thankee kindly for the compliment and review, I do love writing action scenes.  _

**_Trudy – _**_Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, despite no Nabil, et al.  They're coming in the next chapter, I promise!  Lol  If you think you hate Allan now…heh heh_

**_Marxbros_****_ – __Ah the compliments from you are high praise indeed and your own writing continues to serve as inspiration.  I eagerly look forward to your next Mummy fanfic.  As for Loch-nah hanging around, you are so right!  LOL And Ardeth's return just seemed to fit._**

**_Karri – _**_Nice to see you again and thanks for the review. I read your LOTR story as well and will check to see if it's been updated.  *smile* _

**_Serena – _**_thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as well. _

**_Marcher – _**_"better late than never" sound like my attempts at reading fanfic on FF.  LOL Thank you for the kind words but as I've said, I mimic the style and technique of those writers who I admire and you, my girl, are on the list.  LOL Thanks again!_

**_I don't think I've missed anyone unless FF ate your review and for that, I apologize since I don't keep them on my email.  Thanks to all and of course, onwards.  There be lots of loose ends to tie up…or let dangle.  Heh heh *eg*_**


	26. Revelations

Chapter 23

_"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."  ~ William Shakespeare _

_~*~_

Allan Merriweather did not appreciate change.

A creature of habit, he preferred his life to be fairly organized and precise, leaving no opportunities for unwanted surprises.  His powers of observation were crucial and required tools when he was embroiled in a game of chance with his fellow gamblers.  He had made it a point to study the habits of others and always watched for subtle shifts of the body or in a facial expression, thereby gleaning clues that could give him an indication as to whether Lady Luck would be smiling upon him that night. 

Allan had expected his home life to be boring and mundane once he was married, having studied Olivia's habits during their engagement.  He had no qualms about setting the precedent during the first month of their wedded bliss, and ignored the obvious disappointment in his new wife.  Just as he believed with all the other aspects of his life, he felt certain that his seemingly docile and doting wife would soon fit into the mold he had predetermined for her and found most beneficial to him.  And life would go on much better than it had been thanks to the small fortune that Olivia had inherited from her late father's estate.     

How unfortunate that over the course of a few days on an ill-fated trip to a God-forsaken country, everything that Allan had so carefully planned… would change.  All that he had hoped and dreamed for came crashing down around him, like the proverbial house of cards and he was powerless to stop it. 

"Bloody hell," Allan muttered and shoved a hand through his usually perfectly coifed hair.  He stared sullenly at the picture of cool composure that was seated across from him, his eyes raking over her lush womanly form.  "I have given my pain a name and I shall call it… Olivia."

Olivia blinked in surprise at Allan's sour words, but made no overtures to rebuke his remarks.  She seemed to accept it with the same aplomb that she had accepted everything else today.  "Really Allan, can't we still be civilized about all of this?"

Allan snorted at her softly asked question, glaring at the enigma that was Olivia as he leaned forward.  Resting his forearms on his legs, he shrewdly studied the woman he thought to be his wife.

He faulted her for her appearance, for the fact that although her skin had been subjected to the desert sun's harsh rays, the hue of it was gradually turning brown.  It highlighted the blue of her eyes and much to his dismay, he found himself mesmerized by them.  He hated how the original drab color of her hair had unexpectedly turned into shimmering silken gold that made him yearn to run his fingers reverently through its long satiny tresses.  

A man who had always followed his more basic and selfish needs, Allan had caved into his lecherous desires and had tried to force a physical reconciliation with Olivia when she had first entered the bedroom.  Only to himself would he admit that his advances had been soundly thwarted and along with his body, his ego had taken quite the punishment.  

"I think I am most certainly being civilized, considering the fact that instead of being greeted with kisses and accolades for my daring rescue of you in the desert, you state that you want a divorce," Allan snapped.  

Olivia stared down at her hands that were folded in her lap, avoiding eye contact with him.  "I have already expressed my gratitude for the small part that you've played in my rescue.  But quite frankly, I feel there's nothing more to say.  You were present when I made my statement to Captain Mallory," she gently reminded him.  "Apparently you're suffering from a temporary lapse in memory, conveniently forgetting everything that I've said, including my petition for an immediate separation."  

"What in God's name has happened to you?" Allan heaved a dramatic sigh and stood up. He reached for the small decanter of water from the nearby stand, mentally cursing the lack of stronger spirits in the house.  He poured a glass of water and raised it to his lips, then abruptly stopped as a sudden revelation caused him to stare at Olivia. 

"It's what happened when we reached this dirty little town, isn't it?" Allan theorized and started pacing.  

_The ride to Sedment el-Gebel?_

The rest of the journey had been forgettable; the town itself nothing more than a dirty hole, in his opinion.  To his chagrin, Captain Mallory had not only deemed it passable, but safe.  The Caption ordered most of the squad to return to the fort whilst he assured Allan, despite his venomous objections, that the five soldiers left behind were his most trusted and experienced men.

Allan thought he should have been more forceful, but his concern was always diverted to Olivia and her shameful behavior.  She had embarrassed him in front of his countrymen having the audacity to refuse riding with him and had chosen to remain in the wagon, mooning like a lovesick schoolgirl over the wounded savage.  Perhaps the catalyst for the change in her had been when Allen killed the filthy young boy who had touched and mauled what Allan had always considered his property, never his wife.  

"Allan…" Olivia tried to interrupt him but he quickly silenced her with an arrogant wave of his hand.

Allan stopped pacing and turned around, staring at Olivia.  "Are you actually mourning the death of that boy and blaming me for my rightful actions?"

"Your rightful actions have killed an innocent person and have led you to unjustly criticize the elderly man and woman who so graciously provided us with food and lodgings," Olivia stated.  "You have been ordering Magdah and Irfann about like servants in their own home, for God's sake."  

Allan bristled at the reminders of his inconsiderate behavior and he glared at Olivia.  "Yet I see you were only too happy to let the old woman wait on you hand and foot for your precious bath."

"Magdah is a dear sweet woman who simply helped me…" Olivia tried to explain but Allan waved her off once again.

"It has to be," Allan mused and started pacing again.  "It's that… warrior… as you call him, isn't it?  Somehow he's turned you against me, and everything that I stand for, including our marriage."  He knew he sounded like he was whining but was beyond caring at the moment. The harder he tried to hold on to what Olivia was in his mind, the faster she slipped through his fingers like the fine grains of sand.  

Olivia rolled her eyes and slowly rubbed the bridge of her nose, slowly shaking her head.  "No one has turned me against you… except you."

"I am supposed to believe that during this time spent with this heathen, that there have been no inappropriate advances?  That he hasn't tried to seduce you and carry you off on horseback to his rat-infested village?"

Olivia tried to hide an infuriating little smile as she seemed to mull over Allan's wild accusations.  "I could only wish," she finally said softly.  "The only crime he could be accused of is saving my life."

"My God, you are mad," Allan breathed and flopped down into the chair with an exasperated sigh.  

Olivia jumped up and tossed her head at Allan, glaring at him as her hands rested on her hips.  "Ha!  Mad, you say?  My God, this is the first time in months that I've been able to act and think clearly.  If this is madness, then I willingly and gladly succumb to it.  I now know what I must do and I've contacted my family, instructing them to have our lawyers draw up the separation agreement as soon as possible.  Ultimately, we will be divorced and I've instructed my cousin Christian to have your things moved into the London townhouse until all the documents are finalized.  We should have never married and I realize that now."

Allan jumped up and stormed over to Olivia, grabbing her arms and jerking her to his chest.  "What has happened to you? Where is my wife, the woman that I married who had agreed to love and cherish, honor and obey?  You never used to speak so disrespectfully to me.  And to think I gave you the privilege of sharing my bed, and not ordering you to sleep in a separate chamber like other husbands' wives."

Olivia snorted with laughter and pulled her arms free, her eyes flashing with fire.  "Oh yes, let us fondly recollect the long and passionate nights we used to spend in each other's arms after making love.  How can I forget the tenderness and consideration that you saw fit to show me on our wedding night when your idea of foreplay was to merely pull back the bedclothes?  You arrogant, pompous, self-serving ass," she fumed as she spun away from Allan.  

"That's it," Allan murmured incredulously and followed Olivia as she walked over to the bed.  The horrible and inconceivable conclusion that was forming in his mind was too obscure to accept or believe.  And yet…

"That warrior that you've been pining over, the one that Dr. Groves has been operating on for the past four hours… you have fallen in love with him.  You would be willing to risk what good reputation my name has and soil it with the scandal of our divorce for this man." 

Seemingly unable to meet his gaze, Allan watched as Olivia sorted through some of the clothing that her hostess had thoughtfully provided.  He waited and a moment later, his assumption was confirmed by her faint reply.

"His name is Nabil and he is a good and honorable man."

"Oh, this is too much," Allan's snide laughter echoed throughout the room.  He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to one side.  "Then let me play psychic for you, my darling. Let me predict your future.  I'll speak slowly so that all the sordid little details will sink in.  Perhaps then the enormity of what you plan to do will infiltrate this impenetrable wall you've erected around yourself."

Olivia finally looked up at Allan, the steely and newfound determination in her gaze holding him against his will.  "For once in my life, I know who I am, what I am and what I need to do," she said gently but firmly.  "I have gone through a metamorphosis that I can't even begin to explain to myself, let alone to someone like you.  You suffer from no emotional growth whatsoever.  I have had to rely on my own strength and cunning, matching wits with a mad man and taking a chance on something that, in my opinion, is nothing short of a miracle.  Strange that previously I had no idea why I became Nabil's protector until now."  

"Please continue," Allan drawled out as he walked over to retrieve his glass of water.  "I am so enthralled by this… do go on and enlighten me about your journey of self-discovery.  Why do you see yourself as this man's protector?"

Olivia raised her chin and made her simple and yet life-changing declaration.  "I have fallen in love with him, almost from the first moment we met.  I never believed in love at first sight and I daresay my marriage to you had effectively smothered any romantic inclinations or desires I may have previously harbored.  You ask how can I risk the reputation of your name and walk away from our marriage, but I don't believe you will understand or appreciate the answer."

"Try me," Allan quipped.  "You owe me that much."

"Very well," Olivia sighed.  "I believe that I've been given a gift from God, a chance to rectify what has become horribly wrong in my life over the past two years.  I have met a man who has inspired me to break out of the complacent shell I've built around myself and has forced me to reevaluate the mistakes in my life.  His presence alone is thrilling and breathtaking, reminding me of a being who is wild and free, unfettered by social restraints.  There is a quiet honor and nobility about him and his appearance alone makes my heart beat faster, my mouth dry and my woman's soul wonder how it would feel to be held in his strong arms."

Allan put the glass down on the table and warily watched as Olivia walked closer.  

"You call this a journey of self-discovery for me, my dear man and surprisingly enough, you are correct," Olivia continued.  "I have discovered in three short days what you may never ascertain in a lifetime about yourself.  I have come to the conclusion that compared to Nabil, you are a shallow, egotistical man who craves the false comfort that wealth brings and will continually seek unsavory methods to increase it.  You pale in comparison to Nabil.  I find it amazing that for someone like me, who is not a gambler by nature, that I will gladly take this one chance that I've been given.  I want a life with that savage, as you call him, and pray to God that he will want me as much as I want to be with him."    

Allan felt the color drain from his face and his stomach rolled with nausea; his dream had finally shattered before his very eyes.  No longer could he hold onto his dream of remaining married to Olivia and controlling her fortune, it was gone.      

"Well then," Allan said softly and walked away from Olivia, unable to bear seeing the absolution shining in her eyes and hearing the strength that underlined her words.  He paused at the bedroom door, his gaze raking over her body.  "Far be it for me to interfere with your plans for the future.  But since we are examining my weaknesses as your husband, then allow me throw down another card on the table for your perusal.  I don't like to lose – my skills of recovery are renowned at the gaming tables.  Take your chance, have your dalliance, as it may be.  But remember this, I will find a way to recoup my losses.  And my methods aren't always so honorable."

"Get out and do take these distressing facts with you.  Christian has already sent a telegram informing me that the lawyers will be contacting you shortly and oh, I did forget to mention something else," Olivia smiled sweetly at him, seemingly unfazed by his threats.  "All the bank accounts are frozen, as well as any other asset you may try to liquidate.  So much for recouping said losses and I look forward to the challenge you present.  Try and recover what you've lost and I will be forced to seek retribution of my own.  And I believe that my intentions will not remain so honorable either."  

A sardonic smile slid over Allan's face and he gave a slight bow.  "A challenge from the dormouse… you present such a puzzle to me."

Olivia lifted her chin.  "Surely you realize that even mice have sharp teeth."

Allan snorted with skepticism and wrenched open the bedroom door, almost running into a red-faced solider that had been lingering out in the hallway.  "What the hell do you want?" he snapped at the younger man.  "Get a good earful, did you?"

"I was coming for Mrs. Merriweather," the young solider replied.  He peeked around Allan and gave a slight bow to Olivia.  "The Captain would like to see you in the main room, ma'am.  He says it's important."

"Of course," Olivia replied and hurried out of the room, brushing past Allan without a second glance.

As his soon-to-be-ex-wife and the soldier walked down the hallway, Allan was tempted to storm out of the house.  He needed to drown his mounting frustration in something stronger than goat's milk or tepid well-water.  He needed a shot of whiskey and wanted one badly.  Instead, his eyes narrowed with speculation and he decided to follow Olivia and eavesdrop on her talk with Captain Mallory.

As Allan slinked through the hallways of the home, careful to mask his presence, a thousand thoughts whirled through his mind.  He didn't find it odd that none of them contained any remorse over the loss of Olivia.  Instead, he was feverishly trying to figure out how to extract one last substantial amount of money from her before it was too late.

~*~

The ride to the healer's compound should have taken less time that it actually was and Kedar periodically glanced impatiently at the sky, estimating that the sun would set in a few hours.  Disliking the sensation of being vulnerable and open to an attack, his concerns steadily increased along with Ardeth's growing listlessness.  He was more than aware of the small but steady stream of blood that dripped from Ardeth's leg and down the side of the horse.  He muttered a curse to himself and urged his horse into a trot, his actions earning a deep groan of agony from Ardeth.  

"Lean back and rest," Kedar instructed softly.  His arms tightened around Ardeth when he would have fallen and Kedar almost cursed again.  "We still have several miles to cover before we reach the healer's compound, and you have yet to enlighten me as to why we need to go there."

Ardeth rested his head against Kedar's shoulder as one hand reflexively gripped and released the sleeve of his robe.  "I must return to a …angel," he sighed and shifted again, as if trying to appease the gnawing ache in his leg.  "I made a promise to her…"

"You will do her no good if you arrive dead on her doorstep," Kedar growled and glanced over at Zaki, who rode along side of him. They exchanged troubled glances and Kedar shook his head, declining Zaki's silent gesture to take Ardeth from him.  Kedar would carry Ardeth in his arms if need be as long as they reached their destination, and he would ignore his own discomfort first and foremost.  Ardeth was all that mattered, his presence among the warrior sect during the battle a confirmation what Kedar had always known about his friend.

One day soon, Ardeth would be the chieftain of the Medjai. And as his friend, Kedar intended to make sure Ardeth would live to see that day.  

"At least tell me what she looks like," Kedar grumbled, finally caving into his curiosity.  When Ardeth failed to immediately respond, Kedar felt the alien twinge of fear pierce his heart and he reached up with one hand, gently touching Ardeth's chest.  "Stay with me, ya ukh.  It is just a little farther…stay with me.  Talk to me."  

"S-she removed the arrowhead from…my leg," Ardeth gasped and rolled his head to one side, resting his cheek against the sun warmed fabric of Kedar's robe.  "A-and the sorrow from my…heart." 

"It would figure you talk about her skills as a healer rather than her appearance," Kedar snorted, trying to inject some light humor into a tense situation.  Scouts had been sent ahead as a precaution and he glanced over at Zaki, silently mourning the loss of Aliyy and Wajeeh.  The golden eyed warrior had brought several reports with him from the field when he had finally caught up with the party a few hours ago.  Kedar was still uneasy about Berin's spontaneous ride to Sedment el-Gebel to look for Nabil but knew that the sub commander was honoring a blood brother oath, just as he was honoring his own to Ardeth.    

"I am merely being…cautious.  She will take one look at you…" Ardeth's voice was hoarse from most likely holding the pain at bay and his head sagged lower against Kedar's body.  

"And think that I am more handsome than you," Kedar finished with a slight smile.  He could feel the heat radiating from Ardeth's body and he tucked that new worry in the back of his mind, his sole focus now on covering as much ground as possible before darkness fell.

They lapsed into silence as the hours passed by at a grueling rate, and Kedar patiently or at times impatiently waited for the blessed moment when the scouts would alert them as they neared the compound.  He heaved a deep sigh of relief when he finally heard the whistle and dropped his head down to Ardeth's, whispering words of calm reassurance and encouragement as they rode over the last few miles.   

"Do not leave me, ya sahib," Kedar coaxed. His arm wrapped around Ardeth's waist tightened again when he felt Ardeth stir and regain consciousness with a moan.  "We are almost there."

Ardeth rallied for the last few miles as the high walls of the compound came into view and quietly spoke to Kedar, most certainly surprising him with his unusual request.  At first, Kedar refused to relent but in the end, he reluctantly agreed and shook his head in disbelief when they finally came to a rest outside the gates.  With the help of Zaki and a few other warriors, they helped Ardeth dismount and walked him over to the horse Nijm Zarik.  Zaki handed Ardeth the reins and left the warrior leaning against the horse's saddle for support, his golden eyes clouded with worry as he returned to his own mount.  

"I am confused," Zaki murmured worriedly to Kedar.  "Part of this promise to the healer was to bring back a horse?"

"The significance of this task is unclear to me and yet despite the seriousness of his injury, I find I am unable to deny him this," Kedar replied.  He bellowed for permission to enter the compound and watched as one of the gates slowly opened to reveal a lone sentry standing watch.  As the introductions were exchanged, the slim figure of a woman emerged from the compound and Kedar found his first smile of the day.

Ardeth's healer did indeed look like an angel.

~*~

Asiya's concern for Ardeth's return had been a source of subtle humor during the day as the healers went about doing their chores and lessons.  However no amount of work or studying could deny Asiya's fear mingled with excitement over his return and the perpetual question popped up in conversation for most of the day.  

"Has Ardeth returned yet?"

Asiya knew that she had been asking that for what may have been the hundredth time in the past several hours but she didn't care.  Her fear for Ardeth's safety overrode any concern for Na'ima or Is'af's sanity.  Her chores completed, she had been walking around the courtyard of the compound since late afternoon, glad that her sister healers had wisely left her alone for remainder of the day.  

As the morning gave way to afternoon, and shifted towards dusk, Asiya felt her apprehension grow until her agitation was contagious and she eventually had company with her as she paced.   

"Has anyone heard the signal that Ardeth has returned?"

"I believe that if you ask me that again, I am going to grab a bucket of water…" Na'ima threatened Asiya as the women passed by one another.  

Asiya could tell that Na'ima was teasing and the two women exchanged faint smiles but it was Is'af who was gleefully interjecting possible scenarios as to what could have happened to Ardeth in battle. 

"Perhaps the enemy attacked from behind or...or they were too great in number and Ardeth has been taken prisoner," Is'af offered.  She was sitting near the well and when Na'ima suddenly advanced on her with a determined look in her eyes, Is'af jumped up and skirted away from the other healer.

"I was only offering some possibilities as to why Ardeth isn't here yet," Is'af tried to explain but Na'ima wasn't in the mood to listen.

"I would like to offer the possibility of you keeping quiet," Na'ima wagged a finger at Is'af.  

As the two women bickered good naturedly with one another, Asiya watched the exchange with a small smile, glad for the diversion. It took her mind off the late hour of the day only for a moment and before she could help herself, she inadvertently added to the lunacy.  "Does any one know why Ardeth has not returned as of yet?"

"Oh for the love of Allah…" Na'ima muttered.  

Suddenly, they heard a warrior's bellow for permission to enter the compound and Asiya spun around and faced the gates.  Her heart started to beat wildly in her chest and she clasped her hands in front of her to stop their shaking.  A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, each at war with the other on the probability that Ardeth had been wounded again.  She ignored her mind's frantic ramblings and listened to her heart, recognizing one thing - that Ardeth had kept his promise.

"You look pale," Na'ima whispered as she stood by Asiya's side. "Pinch your cheeks to give them some color.  By the way, if this is what love does to a person, then I am not falling in love."

"I am not in love," Asiya whispered fiercely back to Na'ima and frowned at the unladylike snorts of disbelief from both women.  "He is my patient, nothing more."

"You do love him," Is'af whispered loudly.  "Even if he does not like to wear pants when…"

Na'ima hushed Is'af as the gate slowly swung open.  Asiya rushed forward to greet Ardeth but her steps faltered and then came to an abrupt stop when she finally saw him. Her eyes widened with shock as her gaze raked over his dirty and bloody robes.   His handsome face seemed pale and it appeared that he had re-injured his leg, shifting his weight off of it as much as possible.  Tear gathered in Asiya's eyes as she walked forward to meet him halfway, her heart constricting with compassion at the flare-up of pain that danced across his face.

Ardeth continued to lean on Nijm Zarik, his hands firmly entangled in to the horse's mane for most likely balance and support.  He stopped in front of Asiya and a tired smile teased up the corners of his mouth.  "I have returned this horse that…belongs to a healer here," he said softly and held out the reins.  "He has been a good mount…and I owe him my life."

Is'af stepped forward to take the reins but wavered when she must have realized she would be taking away what was supporting Ardeth.  She glanced nervously at Asiya, chewing her lower lip.

"Shukran healer," Ardeth made the decision for Is'af and pushed himself away from the horse, the reins held in his outstretched hand.  

Is'af took them and furiously blushed at the smile on Ardeth's face.  She gave Ardeth a slight bow and Asiya watched as she quickly took her beloved pet to the stables where she knew Is'af would tend to its needs and pamper it. She turned back to Ardeth and softly gasped when she saw that Ardeth was starting to sway.  

Ignoring those that were curiously watching their reunion, Asiya hurried forward and enveloped Ardeth into her embrace, her hands splayed across his broad back as she held him close.  She sighed a moment later when she felt his arms circle around her and pull her close, his head resting on her shoulder.  She felt him lean against her, and tighten his embrace; she tangled her fingers through his long hair, and whispered to him sweet words of love and encouragement.

"I…promised that I would return to you," Ardeth murmured and pulled back for a moment, his eyes dark with the promise of passion and desire.  He reached up with a trembling hand and caressed Asiya's cheek. 

"Warrior," Asiya confirmed in a gentle voice.

"Healer…I need you," Ardeth groaned and Asiya felt him lean against her even more.

Miraculously several warriors appeared around the couple and reached for Ardeth as he collapsed but Asiya refused to release her hold around him.  She would have fallen but a strong pair of arms encircled her waist and she looked up in surprise into a pair of golden eyes.  

"You will do Ardeth no good if you injure yourself, healer," the warrior murmured but didn't try and pry Asiya away from Ardeth.  "It would appear that he needs you."

"Well said warrior," Na'ima appeared at Asiya's other side and with a quick nod to the warriors, she ordered them to carry Ardeth into a nearby building.  

Asiya's hand held onto Ardeth's as they hurried across the compound and the driving need to take care of him prompted the confident healer in her to come forth. She took over from Na'ima and continued issuing commands, flustered only once when she realized that there were two warriors who would not leave the room.  They remained impervious to Is'af's fussing, and the one with the scar slashing down his handsome face seemed amused by her antics.    

Pushing aside all distractions, Asiya grimly set about sewing repairing the thigh injury to the best of her abilities.  Help came in the various forms and skills of Na'ima and Is'af, and it came from the unlikely source of Kedar and Zaki. They stayed by their friend's side quietly watching the proceedings and offering what comfort they could with quiet whisperings of encouragement.  

When the hours of late afternoon slipped into early evening, Asiya instructed for Ardeth to be moved back to the chamber that he had previously occupied.  As the small party of warriors and women walked through the compound towards the main building, Asiya had no doubts that she would be alone in her vigilante care of Ardeth during the night.  

~*~

Like a scarab settling deep into the flesh of a fresh corpse, Jahm had fled from the back of the entourage and unerringly sought the best place to hide.  Nestled safely in the small unused section of the barn, he burrowed in to his chosen camouflage and patiently waited.    

Time was a friend now, and the final culmination of his plans would be made that much sweeter.  Jahm's cunning mind formulated his plans for revenge and he remembered the stories that Loch-nah had told him of Ardeth Bay. He mentally sorted through them, and eventually smiled when he found the weakness that would end the mighty warrior's life.  

From what he had overheard, her name was Asiya.    

~*~

_A/N – For those of who you are still following this, you have my most profound and humble thanks. This is turning into a never-ending story it seems, and yet as the end draws near, I find myself reluctant to stop writing.  There is so much more to tell…_

_As for the gap in my submissions, all I can say is that I suffered from an extreme case of writer's block. Nothing worked and a couple of months ago, I despaired that I would never finish writing this or a sequel.  _

_Bear with my, kind readers, as I attempt to draw this story to close but do not fear - the adventures of my characters will continue in three stories to come.  When my muse returns, it returns with a vengeance.  _

_Shukran for reading…!  _


	27. Things happen for a reason

Chapter 25

"You wished to see me, Captain Mallory?"

Olivia paused in the doorway of the room as a sense of foreboding settled upon her weary shoulders. The stern-faced captain sat at one end of a dining table and waved her in, while Irfann, Magdah's older brother stood by his side like a servant. Olivia felt appalled at the treatment of the kindly elderly brother and sister but wisely kept her opinions to herself for the moment. Instinct prompted her to keep her emotions guarded, since the captain could be a potential ally. 

Thomas waved a hand, indicating for Olivia to sit down. "Thank you for coming, Mrs. Merriweather. I apologize for disturbing your much needed rest, but Dr. Groves has requested this meeting, not I."

Olivia almost sank into the chair with relief, a reaction she carefully kept hidden. 

"Dr. Groves asked for us to be here?" she asked nervously. 

As if summoned by his name, Nathanial appeared in the doorway. "Yes, I thought it best to inform you both on the outcome of the operation."

As he walked around the other side of the table, Olivia studied him with a critical eye. He was young, probably in his mid-thirties with dark brown hair that had a tendency to curl. His face was ruggedly handsome, but Olivia thought that his best feature were his eyes – colored dark like chocolate but so unusually expressive. She felt the first pangs of unease when he seemed unable to meet her gaze. Her fear increased when she saw his soiled and wrinkled shirt. The sleeves had been rolled up and the fabric was stained with crimson splotches. He appeared to be exhausted and with a heavy sigh, he sat down in the chair across from Olivia and raked a hand through his unruly hair. 

Perhaps sensing that both Olivia and Thomas were looking at him expectantly, Nathaniel sat up and folded his hands on top of the table. Olivia tried hard not to notice the darkening to maroon stains under his fingernails. 

"I'll be brief but honest, knowing you both would appreciate my candor," Nathaniel began slowly. 

"Indeed," Captain Mallory quietly agreed. "Go on."

"I am sorry but…" Nathaniel looked at the captain and then to Olivia. "The prognosis is not good. Besides substantial blood loss, there is a raging infection that this man's already fatigued body has been fighting for over two days. I hate to deliver such grim news but I feel I must state for the record – I doubt he will live through the night."

"I see," Captain Mallory sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face.

Olivia thought it odd he seemed to be upset about the news and watched as he waved for Irfann to leave the room, as her mind reeled in shock from the news.

"Are you certain there is nothing that can be done?" Captain Mallory's voice seemed unusually hoarse.

"Quite," Nathaniel gently replied. His glance briefly touched Olivia's face, the emotions swirling in his eyes more eloquent than any spoken word. "Even if I did have the necessary supplies with me to help the… man, in the end it still may be too late. All that I can do now is watch over him, make him as comfortable as possible and… wait." 

Tears welled up in Olivia's eyes and she lowered her gaze, struggling to maintain her composure. Not now, not after all they had been through in such a short time… she would still lose Nabil in the end. 

"It is in God's hands now," Captain Mallory stated sadly and rose stiffly from the chair. As he extended a hand to Olivia, he addressed the doctor. "I appreciate your dedication to the well-being of this man, Doctor, and would appreciate it if you were to let me know if anything changes. Immediately."

"Yes sir," Nathaniel replied and stood up, bidding them both good night. 

Olivia stared at the captain's hand through a blurry haze of unshed tears, her mind and heart still reeling from the news. Weary beyond words, she took it and allowed herself to be escorted from the room, wishing she could lean against Mallory for just a moment. Instead she tapped into the incredible well spring of internal strength she had found deep within herself and slowly walked down the hallway.

Captain Mallory made small polite conversation, letting her know how much he had appreciated her written statement regarding the incident at the Giza pier. "I've had several men investigating the events that had transpired there for my own piece of mind," he confided. 

Olivia returned a polite but emotionless reply, her mind numb and her heart aching with sorrow. It was a cruel and unfair turn of fate and Olivia would find a way to rally against it once she was in the privacy of her room. She needed time to think. 

Captain Mallory abruptly stopped his prattling when they came across Magdah and Irfann conferring in the hallway several feet in front of them. Cringing at the potential orders the captain may have issued the brother and sister, Olivia was more than surprised when he instead offered them a cordial good evening. 

Gallantly, he showed her to her room and after seeking her reassurance that she was all right, Captain Mallory said good night and closed the door softly behind him. He left Olivia staring thoughtfully after him, wondering why the color of his eyes seemed so familiar to her.

~*~

It had all started with an urgently whispered command.

"Wake up…istayqaza, ya sitti" an unfamiliar voice urged. "You are needed."

Olivia pulled herself from the comforting realm of sleep and stared up in astonishment into the face of Irfann looming over her. She frowned over his odd appearance in her room and would have slipped back into the waiting arms of slumber but he persisted, poking her gently on the shoulder.

"You are needed… ija, ija. Come now," Irfann boldly pulled back the covers and held out his hand to Olivia.

"What's going on? Where are you taking me?" Despite any half-hearted reservations about Irfann's mysterious intentions, Olivia climbed out of the bed and threw on a small robe to cover her nightgown. 

The older man never answered her and instead pulled her out of the room and through the dappled moonlit hallways towards another section of the house. She hurried after him, bombarding him with a multitude of questions that he couldn't seem to answer. He only offered her a reassuring smile and finally stopped at a small chamber at the end of one hallway. He opened the door and gestured for Olivia to walk in. 

"You are needed," he repeated and once Olivia was inside, he closed the door firmly behind her.

Olivia peered through the dimly lit room and her eyes grew round with shock when she saw Nathaniel and Magdah hovering over Nabil's weakly struggling body. She hurried across the room, a protest forming but when she saw Magdah applying a compress to Nabil's shoulder wound; it died and was quickly replaced with curiosity.

"What's going in here?" she demanded and stood by Nathaniel's side. 

"I find it amazing that sometimes in the most unlikely situations I can still learn something new," Nathaniel replied softly and pointed to Magdah. "She is using the homeopathic approach in medicine and I must confess that I am intrigued."

"A fresh poultice should be applied every three hours and his body cooled with jasmine water every hour," Magdah instructed. Olivia watched as she crooned softly to Nabil as the persistent fever that ravaged his body seemed to have taken a stronger hold on him.

"I would love to know the ingredients in one of those poultices," Nathaniel eagerly asked.

"I would love to know why you're doing this." Olivia felt ashamed as the head of jealousy reared its ugly head. Exhausted from the events over the past few days and needing to rest, she felt off balance and struggled to understand exactly why Magdah was interfering. Hadn't Nathaniel said there was no hope? To save herself from further heartache, Olivia had believed the doctor's words and had quietly accepted her new fate that had been fashioned by her earlier actions.

Both women ignored Nathaniel's murmured excuse to leave the room and Olivia walked over to Magdah, intrigued as she started to bathe Nabil's fevered body with scented water.

"Have you given up then?" Magdah asked when Olivia sat down on the edge of the bed. She kept her gaze focused on the swirling cloth as it glided over the shallow rise and fall of Nabil's chest.

"I don't want to," Olivia softly confessed. "But Nathaniel said…"

"Any fool can plainly see what has happened between you and this warrior," Magdah handed Olivia the cloth and slowly rose to her feet. "I ask again, are you giving up? What does your heart tell you? Or will you listen to the thoughts of another and what his mind perceives as the end?"

Olivia didn't need any time to think about her reply. "At first my heart refused to believe what Nathaniel had told me," she whispered. "The possibility of losing Nabil after everything that I had gone through… I had fought for him for so long."

"The battle is not over yet but now, there are others who wish to see this warrior live," Magdah smiled secretively and pointed to the basin of water. "Aid sometimes comes from an unexpected source. Continue to bath him and I will return shortly with some fresh water and a cup of tea for you."

Olivia smiled up at the older woman as her hand absently stroked back a few tendrils of hair from Nabil's face. "I don't know how to thank you," she began softly. "You've given me back my hope."

"His presence in this village will bring hope to the hearts of many," Magdah stated quietly and glanced at Nabil. "We have been all but forgotten by the Guardians of the Desert and yet it does my heart good to see that Allah still works in mysterious ways."

Olivia frowned at the cryptic meaning behind Magdah's words but was unable to ask for further clarification since she quickly left the room. A soft groan of pain from Nabil caught her attention and she soothed him as best she could, whispering to him again like she did on the ride to Sedment. Focused on comforting him, she was unaware of the pair of eyes that watched her from the doorway and how they narrowed in rage.

~*~

Sleep did not come easily for Allan that night and as he paced the small confines of his room, he was at the mercy of his turbulent and vengeful thoughts. Reluctant witness to what had transpired earlier in the warrior's chamber, Allan had silently slunk away, ruminating about the possible ramifications. 

Olivia had allies now, something that Allan hadn't anticipated and it hindered his plans in forcing her cooperation. Random thoughts of kidnapping her and taking them back to England seemed to be the most logical and what better way to ensure the success of these plans than to rid himself of the most important ally first?

"So how does one kill a warrior," Allan mused and walked over to the room's small window.

With an unappreciative gaze, he looked outside, missing the subtle yet beautiful shading of the sleeping village that was bathed in the muted colors of silver, gray and black. As the hours passed and night progressed towards dawn, Allan's hastily constructed plans solidified as did his courage. The once debilitating feeling of desperation was now fed by a sudden inner well spring of courage, greed and the profound belief that he was doing what was right.

Allan would reflect in hours to come, however, that it had been a shame that his self-exultation only lasted for a brief shining moment in time. He would never be able to aptly describe the shiver of apprehension he felt race down his spine when one of the shadows had moved, solidifying into the hulking dark figure of a man. He had leaned farther out of the window, willing his mind to register what his eyes had refused to acknowledge and to his dismay the man had melted back into the night. 

~*~

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A/N – Again I thank you for all your reviews, they're greatly appreciated. Bear with me as I continue to wind this story down but I am gearing up for the sequel. To all of you who have read, left reviews or lurk, may you have a safe and joyous New Year. 

Now for the shout-outs:

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Deana – thanks for the review and email, as soon as I can I shall reply. I'm stuck on the next chapter for this and can't figure a few things out. I'll email you soon, I promise! Lol

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Dawn – as always thanks for reading and I'm glad you liked Ardeth being reunited with Ardeth. Things may be peaceful at the healer's compound for now but fate has a way of testing a new found love…heh heh

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SerenaFehr – I do appreciate the review and hope the next few chapters will live up to your expectations. Allan's weasel-like ways aren't over yet, I'm afraid.

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Karri – It's great to be back and I thankee for the review. I hope your fandom has been treating you well? ;)

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Kathy – Thanks for being such a faithful reader and I'm glad to be able to update this so soon, to keep the story fresh in your mind. ;)

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Trudy – Allan worse than a dung beetle? LOL! Well I'll just have to make you change your opinion of him in the chapters to come…heh heh [eg] Nabil and Olivia's story isn't over yet, there's more to come as they grow closer together and yes, fall deeper in love. But Nabil has secrets and ultimately one has to wonder – will these secrets tear them apart?

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Bug – thank you thank you thank you again for the permission to use your warriors, as you can see life with me won't be boring. LOL Kedar and Zaki will play an important part in the chapters and adventures to come and I promise not to play too rough with them. ;)

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Patty – Glad to see you checking in and ask and ye shall receive – another update. ;) Olivia loves Nabil and has sacrificed so much but I think it's worth it, don't you agree? I'm sooo glad this couple has become a favorite amongst the readers and as their adventures continue, I hope I can maintain the spark that has flared up between them. True love will have to conquer all…

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Thanks to everyone for reading, by the way if anyone has some ideas on how Olivia will react to Berin, let me know? LOL That's where I'm stuck…;) 

Patty 2003-12-28 26 Anonymous You have made me so happy!! Olivia loves Nabil!  
Yay! But is the poor boy still in surgery?   
The exchange of "Warrior/Healer" between Ardeth and Asiya always grabs my emotions = love it!  
Don't stay gone so long, kiddo. I miss you and your great stories. 


	28. Consequences

Chapter 25

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Two days later…

"We have done well this day, ya ukht."

Rahimah opened her eyes and blinked in surprise at the small pouch of food and cup of water being held in front of her by Marakim. She felt a pang of guilt for taking a moment to rest when there were so many wounded to be tended to and she hesitated in taking the offered nourishment. Marakim smiled and nodded her head, as if she understood what Rahimah was feeling. 

"Eat, drink, replenish yourself for the hours ahead," the other healer ordered, the severity of it softened by a warm smile. Once Rahimah accepted the food, she sat down on the bench next to her with a slight groan. "This has been a day of triumph and sorrow; the night will be just as long for those who now battle fever and infection."

"We fight a different kind of war," Rahimah murmured as her gaze swept over the floor littered with hundreds of cots, the task of caring for so many almost overwhelming. 

Quadamah's return to the village had been several hours ago and each time a group of horses came thundering into the main square, Rahimah would anxiously search through the wounded for Nabil or Jameel. Her hopes wavered and faltered as the hours passed and more injured were brought to the healers. The first hour had been chaotic as Rahimah and Marakim struggled to get the healers and helpers organized, and prioritized the wounds ranging in severity. Eventually, the deluge of warriors slowed down to a trickle and as peace once again settled over the village, Rahimah had to finally confront her worst fears.

Nabil and Jameel had either died in battle or had been taken to another village for care. The thought of both warriors perishing unsettled her stomach and Rahimah lost her appetite. 

"I overheard the commander talking to his honored Second a little while ago," Marakim's voice broke into Rahimah's melancholy thoughts. "In a month's time, the Elders of the Tribes of the Seventh, the Second and the Fifth will convene and decide who will be promoted to Commander," she stated. "All are in mourning for the loss of those brave warriors yet our sorrow is lifted by the news that Commander Bay is alive. From what I gather…"

"Commander al Fa'ud has been declared dead?" Rahimah sat upright, her hunger immediately forgotten. She looked at the other healer, her eyes wide with panic. "When did you hear this? Are you certain or is this gossip that was gleaned from a warrior that knows nothing…"

Marakim held up her hands in surrender. "I can only tell you what I heard. There is the possibility of a mistake. Honored Second al Usama disappeared from the battle and there is speculation that he is on the hunt, going after those responsible for his commander's death." 

Rahimah jumped up, and ignored the food and water that tumbled to the ground. She clenched her fists so hard that she felt the sting of her nails bite into her palms – anything to stop herself from crying. "There is always the possibility of a mistake. I will not believe… I cannot believe…"

"Ya ukht… wait! I meant no harm…" Marakim called out but Rahimah wasn't listening. 

She dashed through the rows of cots and bolted out of the door, racing out into the cool night. She came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the square, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, furiously praying that more riders would come on… someone else had to know about Nabil.

Someone had to have seen him…

"Healer?" 

Rahimah spun around at the familiar voice, a smile of joyous welcome on her face that faded only a fraction when she recognized the speaker. A weary looking curly haired warrior gave her a tired but familiar boyish smile. 

"Are you all right?" Jameel asked and gently touched Rahimah's arm. 

"You…" she breathed. 

"Aiwa," Jameel raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly from most likely the look of astonishment on Rahimah's face. 

She gave a soft cry of happiness and threw her arms around Jameel's neck, not caring who would see this inappropriate action and speculate. "Al hamdu lilla, you are all right," she said excitedly and placed a light kiss on his cheek. She broke the embrace, silently noting that his hands lingered around her waist far too long but she contradicted her actions by gently touching his face. Jameel looked exhausted and worn; his robes covered in dust and possibly dried blood. But he was alive and that was all that mattered. Her hand accidentally brushed against his bicep and Jameel hissed, jerking his arm away from her. 

"You are injured."

"It is nothing." 

Rahimah and Jameel smiled faintly at their simultaneous comments. She felt a curious stabbing sensation in her heart when Jameel stepped back, purposely putting a respectable distance between them. Rahimah didn't dare try to examine her tumultuous feelings at the moment, but later on she would recognize one of them as disappointment. 

"Come, let me take care of that for you," Rahimah firmly ordered. She gently took his hand and led him back into the building but she was surprised when he pulled her in a different direction. 

"There is someone else who needs you far more than I," Jameel simply stated as they walked towards a dim and far corner of the room. 

~*~

"Who is he?" Rahimah asked and bent over the cot, carefully examining the warrior's injuries. Her hands fluttered over the lean muscular body, her mind already confirming that he had been expertly tended too. The bandages were clean and had been applied with great care but the wound near one temple was what drew her attention. Against her will, her hand brushed back the brown-black hair away from the face…a face that looked somehow familiar. 

"I cannot say," Jameel said and gestured at two warriors who stood off to one side. He quickly introduced them and told Rahimah how they had found the warrior on the field of battle. "Speak to him and you will understand when I say that I may not have brought back Commander al Fa'ud for you but someone just as important."

"You speak in riddles, warrior," Rahimah sighed and turned to Dharr and Solman. "Do either of you know this man?" 

"He is lost," Solman stated quietly and Dharr nodded his head. 

Rahimah frowned at the warrior's choice of words and she bent closer, her eyes drifting over the warrior's features. When curiosity made her examine the head wound again and her fingertips brushed across it, the warrior's eyes suddenly snapped open. His hand shot out and grabbed Rahimah by the wrist. 

Rahimah swallowed her yelp of surprise and Jameel and Dharr came to her rescue, soothing the agitated warrior and trying to get him to loosen his grip. She pulled as they tried to pry her from the warrior's desperate hold but she was prompted by a nameless compulsion to stare at the warrior's eyes. She drew in a sharp breath as slashing gray colored eyes at her so balefully. Her mind tried to register the impossible as she gazed at the face that was at once familiar and different. The nose seemed more refined but the lips were shaped like the ones Rahimah had secretly dreamed of tasting, the absence of facial hair the only defining characteristic. Two days worth of stubble shadowed the strong jaw line and her eyes swept up to meet a gaze that was now shadowed with confusion and fear. 

"Sahil, bero… sahil," Jameel grunted and finally obtained Rahimah's freedom. Dharr held the warrior down when he started thrashing about until exhaustion from his exertions exacted its price. His body finally slumped against Dharr, his hands holding tightly onto the warrior's arms. 

"SamaH ana," he murmured over and over, his body trembling, as he seemed to struggle for a semblance of control. His gaze was unfocused and bleak, disturbing Rahimah more than she would care to admit. Carefully Dharr laid the warrior down, his actions slow and precise as if to relay no further threat. 

Rahimah felt the large but calming presence of Solman behind her, his huge hand splayed across her back to steady her. She gave him her thanks and found that against her will, her attention was pulled back to the nameless warrior. Her mind tried to register the impossible even as her heart tried to understand that he was not Nabil. She wanted to reach out and touch him again, needing to confirm or deny this cruel trick that fate was playing on her. To be teased with a version of the man she had loved for so long and yet see that he was not… her hand dropped to her side. 

"Who are you?" she whispered to him, not really expecting a response. 

The warrior roused himself with great effort and his eyes fluttered open. "I… I do not know."

~*~

The homecoming for Rick was everything he could have dreamed of and more.

With the warm and inviting lights of their home bathing them in a golden blow, Evy and little Alex bundled up like a present waited for Rick at the front door. He forgot his luggage, had no desire to shut the car door and almost forgot to pay the cab driver his fare – he was too busy staring at his family. Once the man had been taken care of, Rick slowly walked up the drive, amazed that his palms were sweating and that his mouth had gone dry.

Evy. His wife… his lover… the other half of his soul stood in front of him, her eyes shining with love and happiness. He furiously scrubbed his hands against his pants, a rakish grin dancing across his face. He couldn't seem to find the words to convey how happy he was to be alive and home. They stared at one another for a few long moments, as Rick simply drank in the sight of the woman who so lovingly held his heart in her hands.

"O'Connell," Evy smiled as Alex fussed a little, his tiny hands were plucking at the blanket tucked beneath his chin. Her gaze wandered from the top of his head, down to the faint pink colored stain on his shoulder down to his boots. 

"Mrs. O'Connell," Rick replied with a chuckle. 

"You're late."

"You look beautiful."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Evy retorted with a smile. The smile almost took Rick's attention away from the tears in her eyes and he thought he felt his heart break. He reached up and caught one with the pad of his thumb before it could begin its wayward journey down Evy's cheek.

"I've missed you," Rick said hoarsely. He pulled Evy into his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around both his wife and son as peace unlike he had ever known flooded his heart. He placed a sweet kiss on the top of her head and rubbed his chin across her soft hair, inhaling the unique womanly fragrance that was Evy.

Slowly, he leaned back and nudged her face up and then bent his head, his lips brushing across Evy's mouth tentatively. He embarked on a mutual journey of rediscovery as his lips and tongue tasted and explored the curve and texture of his wife's sweet lips. Evy returned his passion with equal fervor and they would have willingly lost themselves in the smoldering flames of passion if Alex hadn't brought them back to reality with a small sneeze. 

"We've missed you as well," Evy replied dryly as she tucked more blanket around Alex. She slowly broke the embrace and then took one of Rick's hands, pulling him inside, into the warmth that was their home… and into what Rick would always consider his sanctuary, and his heaven. 

When he walked over the threshold, a horrific image from his dream popped into his mind but Rick wisely kept it to himself. No need to explain to his inquisitive wife about the odd premonition that he felt that somehow… it was all going to end. The serenity of their lives would soon shatter, the shards exploding and cutting away all pretense of security. 

"Where's Jonathan?" Rick asked as they walked through the foyer.

Evy waved a hand, clearly agitated about the subject. "I have no idea, most likely he's off on another one of his gambling and drinking binges. He was supposed to be checking into something for me and I haven't heard a word from him since last night."

__

Cracks in the foundation of the security of O'Connell Manor suddenly appeared and blossomed out erratically…

"Maybe he forgot to call or something," Rick offered as they walked upstairs. He took Alex from Evy, relishing the chance to hold his son and silently marvel at how big he had grown in his absence. Still… the feeling that something was wrong persisted.

"Well, I wish he would remember or something," Evy sounded worried. "He was checking on the new curator at the museum for me and had left a message yesterday afternoon but his handwriting was too garbled to really understand."

__

Tiny fissures danced up the old stone walls of the manor and skittered across the ceiling as dark, billowing storm clouds appeared on the horizon…

"There's a new curator?" Rick asked as they walked into the nursery. "When did that happen and who decided on that?"

Evy turned to Rick and placed a hand on his forearm, as if she needed to feel his quiet underlining strength. "It would seem that we have a lot to talk about," she said and gingerly touched the pink stain that Rick knew she had noticed earlier. 

"Yeah, you ain't kidding," Rick sighed and subconsciously held his son closer.

__

The clouds rolled through the heavens, dark and ominous as if signaling that the world the O'Connell's once knew would be forever changed from one act…an act of curiosity…

~*~

"Come on come on come on," Jonathan begged as he turned the key again in the ignition, praying that the engine would turn over. He fearfully glanced in the rearview mirror, his panicked mind playing tricks on him that the shadows in the alley way were coming after him. 

"Turn over, ye blasted thing," he cajoled and a moment later, he whooped for joy when the motor sputtered to life. Wasting no time, he stepped on the gas pedal and threw the car into gear, roaring away from the gambling establishment that he had frequented for the past two days.

True to his word and the promise to his sister, Jonathan had been slowly and carefully gleaning any information he could about the newly appointed curator at the museum. The various and questionable informants that he had managed to find were always lured into speaking about the new curator as long as money was exchanged. Tonight had been no different and Jonathan had met a nervous little man in the backroom of one of the casinos. It took quite a while to loosen the bugger's mouth and Jonathan grimaced at the steep price he had paid, his own limited assets taking quite the cut but the information given was priceless.

True to his nature and caving into his weak will, Jonathan had stopped off at a gaming table with the intentions of trying to rebuild his cash flow. Time had somehow managed to slip past him like a thief in the night, and by the time he had realized he should have left long ago, danger was slowly surrounding him on all sides.

His instincts screamed a warning and as he hurried from the establishment, several men dressed in red and black robes were following him. Feeling as if the cold hand of death was resting on his shoulder, Jonathan ran, unwittingly leaving behind him a path of chaos. 

He made the mistake of turning around at one point to get a good look at his pursers as he ran outside the building and it had almost cost him his life. They were tall, menacing looking men, who dark eyes burned with the fires of retribution above the face coverings that hid all other human aspect of their features. They shoved and pushed aside any hapless patron that had the ill luck to step in their path. Relentless, and driven, they determinedly followed Jonathan out of the building and were closing in on him when he had finally reached his car. 

As Jonathan steered his vehicle in to traffic, he glanced in the mirror again to reassure himself that he had gotten away. The smile of victory on his face disappeared like the winter snow melting in spring as several dark cars followed him at a reckless pace. 

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered and gripped the steering wheel tighter. He compressed his lips into a thin line of annoyance as his mind frantically struggled to come up with a plan. Going back to the manor was out of the question, he would never jeopardize the lives of Evy and Alex. His only other recourse was to run as fast and as far away as he could praying that his unseen enemy would follow.

As Jonathan drove through the crowded downtown traffic, he would realize in the years to come that on this night he never had prayed so much and so hard…

~*~

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A/N – I have to wonder as this story winds down and the Mummy genre seems to be less popular than it has been, if I were to continue writing my mummy stories – would anyone still want to read them? T'would seem a shame that all the adventures I have in store for Ardeth et al would never get told. Your opinion counts so let me know…I have at least four stories that I'd love to write and submit.

As always thanks for reading and reviewing – your comments are often what keeps me going and keeps me inspired. J 

The shout-outs:

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Marcher – So tell me how you really feel about Allan? LOL As I had mentioned in my email, Allans' role in all of this is far from over but I believe he will get his 'come-uppance.' Olivia is indeed on a rollercoaster of emotions a la Ardeth but as the title of the last chapter stated, everything happens for a reason. I'm tickled pink that you loved both chappies, my friend and thanks for reading. And it is good to be back. 

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Patty – such a good faithful reader you are and I'm so happy you came back to continue reading, despite the recent lack of updates. Promise me you'll stick around for a new story that features Ardeth and Nabil as they face a new threat in the desert…and no, it's not Immy. LOL Olivia is where she should be although there are forces conspiring that may rip them apart…heh heh [eg]

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Deana – thanks for coming over from your world of elves, orcs, rangers and talking trees to revisit this, your review is greatly appreciated. 

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SerenaFehr – Sorry for the stomach-drop when Nathaniel gave Nabil's prognosis but it made sense, considering what the poor man had been through. Olivia is indeed tired but there will come a day when she will be able to lean on Nabil's strength and love…just as it should be. Btw, I love this story too. J 

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Desperate – Ask and ye shall receive – I'm working on the outline for "The Other Side" even as we speak. If you had left a name or email, I could have responded personally to thank you for interest in that story line as well as your faithfulness. Ardeth and Sharif have indeed waiting long enough but if you know my writing by now, things won't come easy for them but in the end…

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Karri – Thanks for the review, I appreciate you still reading. So…how's Legolas? [grins]

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Dawn – Thanks for the review and people just seem to love Olivia and Nabil. But methinks Allan will not disappear, at least not without a fight. He is a scoundrel, a cad and someone that even I hate but…lol He's doing all of this for one reason – greed. I think it's an interesting portrait of a man who's losing everything and how desperate he'll become to get it all back. [eg] 

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